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LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 


LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S 
WAR  BOOK 


WITH  CHAPTERS  ON 
AMERICA  AT  WAR 


BEING  A  REVISED  AND  ENLARGED 
EDITION   OF  "AT    THE    WAR" 


NEW  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


'>^x 


COPYRIGHT,  1916, 
BY   GEORGE  H.  DORAN   COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,  191 7, 

BY   GEORGE  H.  DORAN   COMPANY 

REVISED   EDITION 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED   STATES   OP  AMERICA 


TO  MY  MOTHER 


PREFACE 

This  little  contribution  to  the  funds  of  the  Red  Cross 
has  already  earned  between  $25,000  and  $30,000,  the  pub- 
lishers having  generously  given  the  profits  to  this  best  of 
causes. 

The  profits  of  this  American  edition  will  be  devoted  to 
the  American  Red  Cross. 

The  book  is  the  result  of  many  visits  to  the  Western 
War  Fronts  and  neutral  countries.  The  chapters  are 
very  largely  composed  of  telegrams  written  amidst  the 
"alarums  and  excursions'*  of  war. 


NORTHCLIFFE. 


BRITISH   WAR  MISSION 
671    FIFTH   AVENUE,    NEW  YORK. 

October,  igi7. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The  Americans  at  War 13 

Crossing  the  Atlantic  in  War-time 27 

The  American  Soldiers  in  France 39 

What  TO  Send  "  Your  Soldier  " 51 

The  Army  of  the  Maple  Leaf 59 

A  Civilian's  Impressions  of  the  War 77 

How  It  Feels  in  a  Submarine,  in  an  Aeroplane,  in  a 

Tank 93 

The  Army  Behind  the  Army 107- 

The  Women  Are  Splendid 125 

Before  Verdun 131 

Life  in  Reims 145 

With  the  Italians 153 

Sir  Douglas  Haig 163 

JoFFRE 171 

Cadorna 177 

The  British  Soldiers  in  France 183 

The  New  Little  Belgian  Army 191 

Warplanes 203 

The  War  Doctors 211 

ix 


X  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The  Search  for  the  Missing 229 

Neutral  Glimpses ^49 

I  The  Germans  in  Switzerland 249 

II  Geneva ^57 

III  The  Germans  in  Spain 263 

IV  A  Spanish  Tour ^75 


THE  AMERICANS  AT  WAR 


LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S 
WAR  BOOK 

THE  AMERICANS  AT  WAR 

Since  I  have  been  in  the  United  States — I  arrived  early 
in  the  month  of  June — I  have  seen  the  beginning  of  the 
growth  of  a  war  machine  unequalled  in  the  world's  his- 
tory. The  machine  was  built  in  the  American  way.  As 
I  watched  the  process  I  was  reminded  continually  of  the 
method  of  building  the  sky-scrapers  whose  roots  are  deep 
deep  down  in  the  rock  that  forms  the  Island  on  which 
New  York  stands. 

In  watching  the  building  of  a  sky-scraper,  the  unin- 
formed observer  feels  that  the  thing  will  never  begin. 
For  some  time  there  is  a  blasting  of  rock,  crowds  of  men 
appear  with  strange  machines,  nothing  much  seems  to 
happen.  Then,  gradually  but  surely,  a  great  steel  skele- 
ton arises. 

The  progress  does  not  seem  to  be  as  rapid  as  it  might 
be,  until  suddenly  the  passer-by  finds  to  his  astonishment 
that  the  exterior  walls  of  the  seventeenth  or  thirtieth 
story  are  finished,  the  lower  stories  being  yet  in  skeleton 
form.  There  is  another  delay,  and  lo!  the  sky-scraper 
suddenly  finished,  and  housing  its  ten  or  fifteen  thousand 
busy  workers. 

The  American  war  machine  was  and,  as  I  write,  is 
still  being  built  in  the  same  way. 

From  the  staid  British  point  of  view  the  process  was 
sometimes  bewildering.     There  were  delays,  tolerances, 

13 


14         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

repetitions  of  European  war  blunders,  criticisms,  argu- 
ments, extravagant  optimism  and  grave  under-estima- 
tions.  Sometimes  at  the  end  of  a  long  day  one  looked 
back  on  the  morning  and  could  see  no  progress.  But 
at  the  conclusion  of  every  six  days  there  was  not  only  an 
advance,  but  sometimes  a  leap. 

The  great  giant  of  the  West  slumbered  more  or  less 
uneasily  for  the  first  two  and  a  half  years  of  the  war,  he 
eventually  woke  with  some  unwillingness.  Once  awake 
with  amazing  celerity  he  was  out  and  about,  up  and  do- 
ing. He  swiftly  girded  his  armour  and  fashioned  the 
club  that  should  end  the  rule  of  despotism  in  Europe. 

Lookers-on  and  critics  here  in  the  United  States  were 
astonished  to  find  that  almost  without  public  notice  con- 
scription came  into  being.  When  it  arrived,  it  worked 
as  smoothly  as  though  it  had  been  in  use  since  the  Decla- 
ration of  Independence.  Again  the  giant  paused  awhile 
and  people  began  to  wonder  what  he  was  doing,  but  mean- 
while the  streets  became  filled  with  Khaki.  The  stern- 
looking  business  men  and  professional  beauties  of  photog- 
raphers' shops  were  replaced  by  clean-visaged  officers  and 
nurses.  The  parks  were  busy  from  dawn  to  dark  with 
men  in  shirt  sleeves  at  drill.  Those  trying  to  make  busi- 
ness appointments  by  telephone  found  that  So-and-so  had 
gone  to  France  or  to  an  officers'  training  camp  at  Platts- 
burg  or  elsewhere.  The  war  hourly  became  more  and 
more  a  part  of  the  visible  public  life. 

My  American  home  is  some  miles  out  of  New  York 
City.  When  I  took  up  my  residence  there  in  June  last 
there  were  no  signs  of  war  about  me.  I  went  to  Wash- 
ington and  returned  after  the  space  of  a  few  days.  A 
vast  camp,  as  big  as  ours  at  Witley  in  Surrey  appeared 
at  my  doors  as  though  it  had  grown  by  magic. 

This  camp  was  not  on  the  map  so  to  speak ;  it  was  not 


THE  AMERICANS  AT  WAR  15 

one  of  the  great  cantonments  that  were  built  with  light- 
ning" speed.  Of  these  soldier  cities  there  are  now  sixteen 
finished  or  nearly  so.  They  are  no  mere  camps.  There 
is  a  permanence  about  them  that  makes  it  difficult  to 
realise  that  they  are  built  in  two  score  of  days.  A  num- 
ber of  them  are  being  erected  wisely  in  the  sunny  and 
comparatively  stormless  South,  where  the  soldiers  and 
more  especially  the  flying  men  will  be  in  full  training 
during  the  whole  winter. 

Let  me  describe  one  of  these  cities  in  the  words  of  an 
English  eye  witness,  one  of  the  sixteen  cities  which  will  ac- 
commodate the  first  instalment  (650,000  men,)  gathered 
by  conscription.  These  cities  are  tangible  proof  of  the 
efficiency  of  American  methods  of  organisation  applied  to 
war  making.  We  asked  and  obtained  permission  to  see 
one  of  the  most  rapidly  finished.  It  happened  to  be  two 
thousand  miles  from  New  York.  It  did  not  seem  to  con- 
cern those  who  extended  the  very  cordial  invitation  that 
the  journey  was  a  long  one ;  it  is  regarded  here  as  we  look 
upon  the  journey  from  London  to  Newcastle  (about  200 
miles)  or  London  to  Glasgow  (less  than  300  miles). 

Early  in  July  there  lay  three  miles  outside  San  Antonio, 
Texas,  a  stretch  of  ground  covered  with  a  difficult  kind 
of  scrub  or  bush.  On  the  6th  of  July  there  appeared 
an  army  of  between  nine  and  ten  thousand  workmen  of 
every  known  nationality,  directed  by  young  Americans 
of  the  Harvard  and  Yale  type. 

The  ten  thousand  arrived  in  every  kind  of  conveyance, 
in  mule  carts,  farm  waggons,  horse  cabs,  motors,  and  huge 
motor  vans.  At  the  end  of  the  day's  work,  when  the 
whistle  had  blown,  the  scene  resembled  that  of  some  ec- 
centric elaborately-staged  cinematograph  film. 

Together  with  the  army  of  ten  thousand  men  came 
many  kinds  of   semi-automatic  machinery.      The   hard 


16         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

concrete  roads  in  the  United  States  are  now  made  by 
machinery  with  a  thoroughness  and  permanence  which 
should  attract  attention  in  Europe.  In  this  new  town  out« 
side  of  San  Antonio  twelve  miles  of  rail,  twenty-five  miles 
of  road,  thirty-one  miles  of  water  pipe,  thirty  miles  of 
sewer  were  accomplished  in  forty-five  days. 

The  scale  of  wages  is  as  surprising  to  Europeans  as 
the  energy  expended.  The  average  wage  for  all  and 
sundry  exceeded  five  pounds  ($25)  a  week,  carpenters 
getting  twenty-six  shillings  ($6.50)  daily.  Nearly  all  ma- 
terial had  to  be  brought  from  what  appear  to  us  vast  dis- 
tances. As  often  as  not  the  thermometer  stood  at  100 
degrees,  yet  the  daily  photographs  taken  by  the  contrac- 
tors show  that  progress  was  continuous,  until  on  August 
25th  a  considerable  part  of  the  city  was  ready  for  oc- 
cupation. 

The  strongly  and  comfortably  built  huts  are  all  pro- 
vided with  heating  arrangements  for  the  winter,  and 
baths  hot  and  cold  are  attached  to  each  building;  there 
are  vast  stores  and  office  blocks,  several  post  offices,  a 
huge  bakery,  laundry,  stables  for  thirteen  hundred  horses 
and  mules,  hospitals,  schools;  in  all  between  twelve  and 
thirteen  hundred  buildings. 

And  what  has  been  done  in  Texas  was  being  done 
simultaneously  in  fifteen  other  parts  of  the  country. 

Although  Long  Island  is  so  close  to  New  York  and  is 
one  of  the  most  fashionable  country  house  districts  in 
the  United  States,  the  site  chosen  near  Yaphank  for 
Camp  Upton  on  Long  Island,  gave  as  much  trouble  as 
any  other.  A  forest  had  to  be  cut  down  and  the  roots 
blasted  out  of  the  soil.  Furthermore,  the  works  were 
hampered  by  mosquitos  to  a  degree  that  will  be  under- 
stood by  those  who  have  disturbed  virgin  soil  in  new 
places. 


THE  AMERICANS  AT  WAR  17 

Americans  have  a  prompt  imexpected  way  of  doing 
things  which  is  pleasingly  refreshing.  One  morning  I 
read  that  all  saloons  within  fives  miles  of  Yaphank  had 
been  closed  down.  Nothing  more  said  about  it,  no  dis- 
cussion preceded  the  matter,  there  were  no  abstruse  cal-. 
dilations  as  to  compensation.  The  United  States  is  at 
war;  saloons  are  not  good  for  war,  close  them  down. 
That's  all  there  was  to  it. 

These  are  a  good-natured  but  a  drastic  people.  One  of' 
their  great  war  accomplishments  is  the  stamping  out  of 
sedition.  When  I  first  arrived  here  it  was  common  to  see 
knots  of  rather  bored-looking  people  round  a  wildly 
gesticulating  man  standing  on  what  I  believe  is  known  as 
a  soap  box.  I  noticed  the  number  of  these  orators  grew. 
I  stopped  one  evening  to  listen  to  one  of  them  in  the 
negro  quarter;  he  was  talking  a  lot  of  excitable  rubbish. 
In  one  part  of  his  discourse  he  evinced  unexpected  sym-. 
pathy  for  the  downtrodden  Irish  farmer,  who  is  notably, 
by  the  way,  among  the  most  prosperous  of  farmers. 

The  American  Giant  paused  one  day  in  his  war  prepa- 
rations, issued  some  kind  of  police  order,  and  there  was 
an  end  to  pacificism. 

A  shrewd  British  friend  of  mine  who  has  lived  here 
many  years  remarked  the  other  day  that  it  took  a  long 
time  to  get  Uncle  Sam  into  the  War,  but  that  it  may  take 
a  much  longer  time  to  get  him  out. 

Already,  after  barely  five  months  of  preparation,  the 
United  States  have  close  upon  a  million  and  a  half  sol- 
diers undergoing  intensive  training  for  their  task.  The 
Regular  Army  was  brought  up  to  its  full  strength  300,000 
by  voluntary  enlistment.  The  National  Guard,  a  State 
Militia,  was  filled  up  by  the  same  means  tmtil  it  numbered 
500,000.     Then  came  the  ballot  for  conscripts  under  the. 


18  LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

Conscription  Act ;  this  gave  between  600,000  and  700,000 
more. 

For  the  training  and  upkeep  of  this  force  and  for  the 
provision  of  all  that  it  will  require  in  the  field,  sums  of 
money  have  been  voted  which  make  one's  brain  reel. 
For  airplane  construction  $640,000,000  have  been  ap- 
propriated. Upon  merchant  shipbuilding  $1,134,500,000 
are  to  be  spent.  A  naval  appropriation  of  $350,000,000 
for  the  building  of  destroyers  has  been  commenced. 
One  armour  plate  and  projectile  plant  at  South  Charles- 
ton will  soak  up  $22,000,000.  In  all,  the  war  expenditure 
of  the  United  States  already  amounts  to  well  over 
$8,000,000  a  day,  and  loans  to  Allies  account  for  another 
$12,000,000  every  twenty  four  hours.  The  war  machine 
gathers  momentum  as  its  travels.  Its  ramifications  are 
bewildering.  Scarcely  a  day  passes  without  some  fresh 
and  startling  proof  of  its  force. 

The  American  characteristics  in  war  seem  to  be  two, 
firstly,  what  looks  like  undue  deliberation,  and  then,  be- 
fore you  are  ready  for  it,  as  a  bolt  from  the  blue,  a  smash- 
ing blow. 

We  know  little  of  United  States  politics  in  Europe. 
Probably  not  one  English  or  French  reader  in  a  score 
understands  that  the  Democrats  (Radicals)  are  in  power 
and  the  Republicans  (Conservatives)  in  opposition.  The 
system  so  far  is  rather  like  our  own,  but  the  head  of  the 
nation  is  a  President  whose  character  appears  to  me  to 
be  a  mixture  of  Scottish  caution  and  tenacity  with  Ameri- 
can unexpectedness. 

Witness  the  reply  to  the  Pope.  When  cables  from 
Europe  contained  mealy-mouthed  meanderings  from 
Continental  newspapers  outlining  all  kinds  of  suggested 
temporising  replies  to  his  Holiness,  suddenly  came  an  al- 
together unexpected  bang   from  the  White  House  at 


THE  AMERICANS  AT  WAR  19 

Washington ;  the  whole  miasma  of  pacificism  and  all  the 
rantings  from  soap  boxes  were  at  an  end.  My  Republi- 
can friends,  naturally  critical  of  persons  and  things 
Democratic,  shared  the  nation-wide  joy  in  the  Presi- 
dent's reply.  As  with  the  well-meant  Papal  peace  of- 
ferings, so  with  the  embargo. 

Well-meaning  European  statesmen  have  too  long  pro- 
vided the  German  armies  with  materials  for  making  shot 
and  powder  and  with  food  through  greedy  and  gain- 
loving  neutrals.  The  American  mind  wondered  why.  I 
went  one  day  to  have  a  look  at  an  American  transport 
sailing  for  Europe,  in  which  the  soldier  boys  clustered 
like  bees  in  swarming  time.  Incidentally  my  guide  showed 
me  a  great  number  of  neutral  ships  loading  up  with  grain 
for  Germany.  There  came  another  bang  from  the  big 
gun  at  Washington.    The  ships  are  still  here. 

I  should  not  be  surprised  if  they  eventually  helped  to 
carry  food  to  the  American  armies  in  France  and  to  Bel- 
gium. I  am  very  certain  they  will  not  carry  one  grain  of 
wheat  to  Germany.  The  right  of  neutrals  to  prolong  the 
war  is  not  conceded  by  the  United  States.  The  Ameri- 
can mothers  who  are  sending  their  boys  to  face  subma- 
rines in  the  Atlantic  and  high  explosives  in  the  trenches 
have  no  sloppy  sentiment  for  Sweden  or  Spain.  They 
are  sorry  for  Holland,  but  the  motto  ''America  first,'' 
though  not  perhaps  always  suited  to  an  alliance,  is  un- 
doubtedly a  formidable  war  weapon  when  put  into  opera- 
tion with  the  drastic  suddenness  characteristic  of  Ameri- 
can mentality  in  war  time. 

Several  times  I  have  been  asked  by  Americans,  who 
are  becoming  almost  as  critical  of  themselves  as  we  Eng- 
lish have  always  been  of  ourselves,  whether  there  is  not 
observable  in  the  United  States  a  lack  of  enthusiasm  in 
the  public  demeanour  towards  troops  parading  or  depart* 


20         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

ing.  The  same  criticism  has  been  made  continuously  in 
Great  Britain  in  regard  to  the  people  and  their  army. 

It  is  quite  true  that  an  ordinary  baseball  game,  or  an 
Association  football  match  at  home,  is  more  provocative 
of  cheering  and  other  forms  of  applause  than  the  appear- 
ance of  troops.  Pictures  of  soldiers  departing  in  the  old 
wars  make  us  believe  that  they  were  surrounded  by  en- 
thusiastic and  yelling  crowds.  That  does  not  appear  to 
be  the  case  now  in  any  of  the  belligerent  countries  in 
which  I  have  been  since  August,  19 14.  Even  the  most 
excitable  Italians  go  to  this  war  with  gravity  and  sobriety. 

The  only  really  vociferous  acclamation  to  troops  that 
has  come  under  my  notice  was  in  a  neutral  country  whose 
callous  pro-Germanism  has  made  it  a  by-word  among  na- 
tions. A  cynical  American  who  watched  with  me  a 
squadron  of  cavalry  passing  at  the  trot  and  being  vigour- 
ously  applauded  by  a  Spanish  crowd  remarked  "The  last 
thing  these  people  mean  to  do  is  fight." 

American  troops,  whose  physique  is  at  present  much 
the  best  in  the  war,  are  regarded  by  their  onlookers  with 
interest,  affection  and  pride.  Their  mission  is  far  too 
serious  a  one  for  wild  hurra-ing  such  as  we  heard  during 
the  South  African  and  the  Spanish  wars.  Summed  up 
in  one  word,  the  attitude  of  the  American  People  and  their 
soldiers  seems  to  me  to  be,  Earnestness.  If  any  other 
word  be  necessary  Thoroughness  might  be  added. 

The  world  has  heard  something  of  the  evolution  of 
what  is  known  as  the  U.S.A.  or  Liberty  Air  Engine.  The 
full  story  of  the  development  of  this  practical  and  now 
tested  motor  sums  up  many  of  the  most  marked  traits  in 
the  American  war  character.  It  is  the  product  of  en- 
thusiasm put  to  the  right  purpose. 

There  is  probably  no  more  highly  organised  industry 
in  the  world  than  the  manufacture  of  American  motor- 


THE  AMERICANS  AT  WAR  21 

cars.  Despite  the  keen  competition  that  has  enabled 
Americans  rich  and  poor  ahke  to  have  automobiles,  co- 
operation and  standardisation  among  the  rival  producers 
have  intensified  simplicity  and  eliminated  w^aste.  It  is 
because  of  this  that  I  am  able  to  purchase  in  the  United 
States  for  my  own  use  an  excellent  four-seated  landaulette 
for  $i,ooo  with  electric  lighting  installation  and  self- 
starter.  I  have  the  choice  of  a  number  of  types  at  tliat 
price  and  even  less. 

The  methods  of  the  motor-car  industry,  which  have 
given  such  marvellous  results,  are  being  adapted  in  regard 
to  the  Air  Engine.  Early  in  July  I  was  invited  to  the 
Bureau  of  Standards  in  Washington  to  see  the  engine 
just  after  it  had  arrived  from  Detroit.  In  a  room  adjoin- 
ing the  bench  on  which  the  motor  rested  was  a  machine 
for  reproducing  mechanical  drawings,  or  blue-prints,  by 
a  highly  ingenious  form  of  rapid  rotary  printing.  These 
drawings  are  being  sent  in  thousands  to  makers  of  auto- 
mobiles all  over  the  United  States. 

The  young  men  who  had  accomplished  the  construc- 
tion of  the  engine  were  the  leading  designers  and  engi- 
neers of  the  great  competing  motor-car  and  motor-van 
makers.  All  trade  rivalry  had  been  set  apart,  and  they 
had  thrown  their  united  efforts  into  a  magnificent  piece 
of  team-work,  which  will  enable  the  United  States  to  turn 
our  air  engines  almost  as  rapidly  as  Mr.  Ford  multiplies 
his  wonderful  little  cars. 

It  is  not  pretended  that  these  air  engines  are  of  the 
same  quality  as  the  best  English  or  French  war  models. 
It  was  wisely  foreseen  here  that  the  construction  of 
motors  so  delicate  would  demand  the  training  of  thou- 
sands of  skilled  handworkers.  Time  is  a  vital  factor  in 
the  situation,  therefore  it  was  resolved  to  produce  an  en- 
gine that  could  be  manufactured  in  part  in  a  thousand 


^2         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

workshops  and  assembled  at  certain  given  points,  as  is 
done  by  Germany  with  her  submarines.  It  is  an  engine 
designed  for  a  certain  specific  air  programme,  the  nature 
of  which  the  Germans  will  learn  in  due  course. 

Together  with  the  manufacture  of  this  air  motor,  whix:h 
has  now  been  tested  in  long  flights  at  various  altitudes, 
goes  on  the  training  in  flight  of  a  large  number  of  eager 
and  capable  young  men.  Almost  every  steamer  arriving 
from  Europe  brings  more  and  more  skilled  airmen  from 
the  war-zone,  French,  American  and  English.  Flying 
grounds  in  the  United  States  are  being  extended  continu- 
ously. They  range  now  from  Camp  Borden  in  Canada, 
where  young  British  oflicers  are  training  American  and 
Canadian  fliers,  to  San  Antonio,  in  Texas.  Instruction 
in  flying  can  continue  without  ceasing  owing  to  the  choice 
of  so  many  suitable,  because  almost  windless,  climates 
for  the  camp  installations. 

The  enthusiastic  outpourings  of  air  amateurs  and  their 
cries  of  ''One  hundred  thousand  air-planes"  have  made  a 
good  many  people  sceptical  as  to  American  participation 
in  the  air  fighting.  But  behind  all  that  talk  is  already  a 
vast  accomplishment.  The  solid  foundation  has  been 
laid  of  an  air  service  backed  by  practically  illimitable  man- 
power and  machine-power.  Its  fruits  will  be  shewn  as 
suddenly  as  came  Conscription.  Movement  is  going  on 
as  rapidly  as  possible  in  view  of  the  thoroughness  with 
which  everything  is  being  done.  There  has  been  a  com- 
plete liaison  with  the  Air  Services  of  France  and  Eng- 
land. While  no  time  has  been  lost,  more  careful  consid- 
eration has  been  given  to  a  definite  plan  of  campaign. 

Since  I  arrived  in  the  United  States  during  the  second 
week  of  June,  I  have  kept  a  diary  of  war  happenings. 
This  I  shall  keep  as  a  document  of  great  historical  inter- 
est.    Never  has  any  Democracy  made  such  rapid  prog- 


THE  AMERICANS  AT  WAR  2S 

ress  in  so  vast  an  enterprise.  The  pace  was  accelerated 
every  week.  We  were  made  acquainted  in  the  course  of 
four  months  with  a  series  of  war  measures  which  would 
seem  to  be  almost  beyond  the  national  power  of  digestion. 

It  is  easy  to  say  that  many  of  these  measures  might 
have  been  adopted  a  couple  of  years  earlier,  but  De- 
mocracies do  not  work  in  that  way.  Even  after  the  war 
had  begun,  we  in  England  spent  almost  two  years  in  dis- 
cussing whether  we  should  have  equality  of  sacrifice  in 
regard  to  military  service,  and  Canada  was  still  debating 
the  question  until  a  few  weeks  ago.  Each  nation  has  to 
make  its  war  preparations  after  its  own  fashion.  No 
nation  seems  to  learn  much  from  any  other. 

The  American  War  Machine  has  been  built  in  the 
American  way.  Maybe  it  will  have  its  faults,  but  for 
all  that  it  is  the  mighty  sledge-hammer  that  will  pulverise 
Prussianism. 


CROSSING  THE  ATLANTIC  IN  WAR-TIME 


CROSSING  THE  ATLANTIC  IN  WAR-TIME 

One  thing  the  war  has  done  for  those  who  travel.  It 
has  restored  to  travelHng  the  spice  of  adventure.  Cross- 
ing the  Atlantic  had  become  before  the  war  as  tame  and 
uneventful  a  business  as  taking  the  Subway  or  the  Ele- 
vated to  go  down  town.    The  war  has  changed  all  that. 

The  greatest  of  the  liners  which  made  our  Atlantic 
ferry  the  swiftest  and  most  luxurious  means  of  ocean 
transportation  in  the  world  have  disappeared  from  their 
accustomed  routes.  Some  will  never  return  to  them. 
They  lie  on  the  floor  of  the  sea.  Even  now  it  is  hard  to 
think  of  the  Lusitania  without  a  pang  at  the  heart.  Other 
of  the  "floating  palaces"  which  made  their  trips  between 
the  United  States  and  England  so  punctually  and  steadily 
have  been  turned  into  hospital  ships,  transports,  auxiliary 
cruisers.  As  for  those  which  flew  the  German  flag,  they 
are  either  interned  in  the  harbours  of  Allied  or  neutral 
countries,  or  else  rotting  in  their  home  ports,  rotting  and 
rusting  as  part  of  the  price  which  Germany  has  to  pay  al- 
ready for  allowing  the  crazy  and  criminal  ambition  of 
Hohenzollerns  and  Prussian  Junkerdom  to  break  up  the 
prosperity  won  by  peace-methods  and  to  substitute  for  it 
the  widespread  ruin  caused  by  unsuccessful  war. 

In  the  pre-war  days,  which  seem  so  far  off  from  us 
now,  there  were  no  more  formalities  to  be  faced  before 
crossing  the  ocean  than  before  crossing  the  road.  One 
simply  bought  a  ticket,  learnt  the  time  of  departure,  cabled 
to  say  the  exact  day  and  hour  of  arrival,  went  on  board. 

27 


S8         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

No  questions  asked,  no  papers  needed  beyond  the  steamer 
ticket.  Passports  were  regarded  as  antediluvian,  only 
required  by  those  who  travelled  beyond  the  confines  of 
civilisation,  in  the  dominions  of  the  Turkish  Sultan  or 
the  Russian  Tsar. 

In  this  fourth  year  of  the  struggle  it  has  rightly  been 
made  difficult  for  any  persons  to  cross  the  Atlantic  who 
have  not  some  good  urgent  reason  for  doing  so.  Such 
reason  must  be  shewn  before  permission  to  take  ship  is 
granted.  The  journey  from  England  to  the  United  States 
in  war-time  begins,  therefore,  in  the  wooden  houses 
built  in  the  courtyard  of  the  Foreign  Office,  London. 
Here  full  information  must  be  given  to  officials,  for  the 
most  part  s}Tnpathetic,  as  to  parentage,  birthplace,  busi- 
ness; grounds  for  desiring  to  travel;  previous  travel 
during  the  war  period;  and  so  on.  If  all  goes  well  for 
the  would-be  voyager,  he,  or  she,  receives  a  passport,  or, 
having  one  already,  has  it  endorsed  with  a  permit  to  leave 
England  for  American  shores. 

Next  those  who  are  not  travelling  with  diplomatic 
credentials  must  fill  up  the  interrogatory  of  the  steam- 
ship company.  This  is  not  less  exhaustive  than  the  offi- 
cial questionnmre.  One  has  an  uneasy  feeling  that  they 
may  be  compared  and  any  accidental  discrepancy  used 
against  one.  Some  people  are  made  so  nervous  by  being 
"regarded  with  suspicion,"  as  they  term  it,  though  really 
there  is  no  need  to  put  it  in  that  way,  that  they  begin  to 
wonder  whether  they  have  not  something  to  hide.  They 
begin  to  be  not  quite  sure  about  their  own  bona  fides. 
There  should,  however,  be  no  feeling  of  uneasiness  or 
resentment  caused  by  these  indispensable  precautions. 
Every  one  should  be  glad  to  find  that  precautions  against 
spies  are  being  systematically  taken.  Every  one  must 
recognise  that  it  is  necessary  to  limit  the  numbers  using 


I 


CROSSING  THE  ATLANTIC  IN  WAR-TIME       29 

the  restricted  service  of  liners  which  ply  across  the  At- 
lantic in  the  fourth  year  of  the  war. 

Next  comes  the  train  journey  to  Liverpool.  This  is 
as  fast  as  it  was  in  peace-time,  and  as  comfortable,  ex- 
cept that  there  is  no  luncheon-car  attached.  Luncheon 
baskets  are  brought  round  to  the  compartments,  however. 
In  Liverpool  Dock  Station  there  is  nothing  like  the  usual 
crowd  and  bustle.  The  number  of  passengers  is  small. 
"This  way  please"  say  the  dock  policemen,  and  they  shep- 
herd the  passengers  towards  a  number  of  benches,  fac- 
ing a  small  table,  at  which  sit  an  official  in  plain  clothes 
and  an  officer  wearing  the  green  tabs  on  his  collar  and 
the  green  band  round  his  cap  which  denote  the  Intelli- 
gence Service  of  the  British  Army.  Once  more  there 
are  questions  to  be  answered.  This  is  an  examination 
conducted  on  behalf  of  the  military  authorities.  You 
may  have  satisfied  the  Foreign  Office  and  yet  fail  to 
satisfy  the  Intelligence  Department. 

"What  are  your  reasons  for  going  to  the  United 
States?" 

"Ever  been  there  before?" 

"What  is  your  occupation?" 

Wearily  the  travellers  repeat  their  replies  for  the  last 
time.  All  are  found  "Not  guilty."  They  hurry  on 
board  to  take  possession  of  their  state-rooms  and  to  see 
that  their  trunks  have  been  distributed  to  them. 

Now  begins  the  discussion  of  the  question:  "Hov? 
soon  shall  we  be  off?"  Tales  are  gloomily  told  of  ships 
that  have  been  kept  in  the  Mersey  for  five  days.  Is  it 
an  advantage  for  us  that  the  weather  is  calm?  Does 
that  not  make  it  easier  for  submarines  to  attack?  Do 
we  have  to  wear  our  lifebelts  all  the  time?  Is  an  in- 
flated waistcoat  better  than  a  cork  belt? 

One  passenger  has  a  whole  suit  to  wear  in  case  of  dis- 


30         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

aster.  It  is  like  a  diver's  suit  in  appearance.  He  fetches 
it  from  his  cabin  and  puts  it  on  in  view  of  an  admiring 
throng.  He  takes  too  long  however  to  struggle  into  it. 
Admiration  changes  to  doubt  of  its  efficacy.  ''Ship 
would  go  down  before  you'd  found  your  way  in  and  but- 
toned it  all  up/'  says  a  sceptic,  voicing  the  verdict  of  the 
rest.  We  drift  out  on  to  the  deck  again,  hang  over  the 
side,  watch  the  bridge  which  connects  us  with  the  shore 
being  removed,  speculate  as  to  whether  we  are  really  off 
or  not. 

In  a  few  minutes  our  doubts  are  dispelled  and  our 
spirits  rise  rapidly.  We  are  casting  off.  Into  the  wide 
river  we  go,  down  towards  the  mouth  of  it.  Westward 
we  see  the  sun  declining.  Into  the  sunset  we  shall  soon 
be  heading.  "New  York  to-morrow  week  perhaps,  who 
knows  ?" 

Who  knows?  Indeed  that  is  a  question  impossible  to 
answer.  Nobody  knows.  We  have  to  wait  for  instruc- 
tions. Those  who  give  the  instructions  have  to  wait  for 
the  reports  of  the  submarine-chasers.  What  the  sub- 
marines will  be  doing  at  any  given  moment,  nobody 
knows.  Patient  we  must  be,  if  we  are  detained,  and 
thankful  that  the  British  and  American  patrols  and 
mine-sweepers  are  making  the  way  as  safe  as  it  can  be 
made  for  our  voyage. 

Need  for  patience  soon  overtakes  us.  Opposite  the 
Tower  at  New  Brighton  Beach  plump  goes  our  anchor. 
Here  we  are  to  stay  until  further  orders.  These  do  not 
come  until  we  are  in  bed.  In  the  night  we  make  another 
start.  Next  morning  we  are  well  on  our  way.  Not 
the  most  familiar  way,  but  a  way  more  interesting  and 
more  picturesque.  Never  have  the  hills  and  vales  of 
Ireland  looked  greener  and  lovelier  than  on  this  bright 
day  of  blue  sky  and  sunshine.    The  sea  has  a  brisk  little 


CROSSING  THE  ATLANTIC  IN  WAR-TIME       31 

"popple"  on  it,  but  the  ship  ploughs  along  with  a  steady 
movement.  Every  one  is  eager  to  catch  a  glimpse  of 
some  of  the  vessels  that  are  taking  care  of  us.  Now 
and  again  we  sight  the  smoke  of  a  destroyer  or  pass  a 
fleet  of  mine-sweepers,  and  feel  we  would  like  to  cheer 
the  brave  crews  of  them,  who  risk  their  lives  daily  and 
every  hour  of  the  day  to  keep  the  Atlantic  Lane  open  and 
secure. 

If  we  choose,  we  can  keep  that  Lane  open  and  send 
ships  along  it  with  very  small  risk.  The  chief  safe- 
guards against  submarine  attack  are.  Speed  not  less  than 
fifteen  knots  and  hundreds  of  small  fast  armed  patrol 
craft  to  hunt  the  U-boats  away.  How  small  the  danger 
is  for  fast  ships  can  be  judged  from  this  which  I 
know  to  be  a  fact.  One  of  the  Departments  of  my  Brit- 
ish War  Mission  in  the  United  States  has  sent  to  Eng- 
land its  accounts  weekly  since  early  spring.  It  was  dis- 
covered lately  that  they  have  not  been  sent  in  duplicate 
even.  Yet  none  of  them  have  failed  to  reach  England. 
Is  it  any  wonder  that  an  official  in  London  who  was 
asked :  "What  precautions  do  you  take  to  ensure  your 
communications  reaching  your  representatives  in  Amer- 
ica?" replied  "Precautions?  No  precautions  at  all.  We 
post  our  letters  in  the  ordinary  way." 

Here  is  proof  that  speed  confers  immunity  to  a  very 
marked  degree.     It  may  happen  that  by  ill  fortune  or 
through  carelessness  a  fast  ship  will  be  caught  and  sunk, 
P   but  if  all  possible  precautions  are  taken  and  if  all  ships 
"*'     traversing  the  Atlantic  Lane  could  steam  at  not  less  than 
fifteen  knots,   (and  faster  if  the  speed  of  German  sub- 
marines increases,  as  it  very  likely  may),  then  we  could 
have  regular  traiBc  attended  by  very  little  risk.    At  pres- 
ent the  danger  zone  is  not  of  vast  extent,  though  it  would 
mt  never  be  safe  to  assume  that  the  enemy  may  not  at  any 

I 


32         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

time  increase  its  area.  While  our  ship  is  in  this  zone 
there  is  a  noticeable  tendency  among  some  of  the  passen- 
gers to  talk  about  any  subject  rather  than  submarines, 
and  many  anxious  looks  are  to  be  seen  directed  towards 
the  waste  of  ocean  on  either  side  of  the  ship. 

Sometimes  we  are  hailed  by  a  patrol  boat.  Lucky  for 
us  if  it  does  not  tell  our  captain  to  turn  in  somewhere 
and  wait  for  instructions.  Often  the  Loughs  which  dent 
the  coast  of  Ireland  are  littered  with  ships  that  have 
been  ordered  for  their  own  good  and  safety  to  get  into 
shelter.  Nothing  of  this  interesting  uncertainty  accom- 
§>anied  the  voyages  of  peace-time.  Nor  were  there  guns 
mounted  fore  and  aft  in  peace-time,  with  American 
blue  jackets  manning  them,  standing  by  the  whole  time 
that  ships  are  in  the  danger-zone.  They  keep  a  sharp 
look-out.  One  man  has  powerful  glasses  (not  the  tele- 
scope, w^hich  used  to  be  always  preferred  for  sea  work). 
Another  has  a  telephone  apparatus  strapped  over  his 
head,  the  mouthpiece  just  under  his  chin.  A  third  stands 
by  a  huge  speaking-tube.  The  instant  any  suspicious 
object  is  sighted  these  men  give  warning.  On  the  bridge 
are  gunnery  officers  as  well  as  the  ship's  officers,  not  less 
vigilant  than  their  men  on  deck. 

Never  are  the  gun-crews  or  the  gunnery  officers  al- 
lowed to  quit  their  posts  so  long  as  there  is  danger. 
Night  and  day  they  are  ready  for  action.  How  they 
enjoy  their  sleep  when  the  tension  is  relaxed! 

"Tired,  I  expect,"  I  say  to  one  of  the  sailors,  a  fair, 
handsome  giant  who  is  sitting  in  a  deck-chair,  blinking 
at  the  sun.  This  is  all  the  rest  permitted,  and  only  one 
at  a  time. 

"You  bet  you,"  he  makes  answer.  "But  to-morrow 
ril  have  fourteen  hours  in  my  bunk.  We'll  be  out  of 
the  danger-zone  then." 


CROSSING  THE  ATLANTIC  IN  WAR-TIME        33 

Splendid  fellows,  these  American  naval  gunners. 
Keen  on  their  work,  making  light  of  its  fatigues,  eager, 
how  eager,  to  get  a  shot  in  at  the  enemy.  They  are 
proud  of  their  guns,  proud  of  what  they  can  do  in  the 
shooting  line,  proud  of  their  appearance  also.  In  the 
slacker  days  they  paint  them  and  shine  up  their  brass- 
work  with  affectionate  care.  The  passengers  grow  fond 
of  their  defenders,  feel  safe  when  they  see  them  stand- 
ing round  their  long  naval  guns.  Many  of  the  voyagers 
are  as  anxious  as  the  gunners  for  ''something  to  hap- 
pen," even  though  it  meant  risk  of  being  torpedoed. 
Time  hangs  heavy  on  our  hands.  There  is  no  regular 
service  of  news  by  wireless  to  provide  us  wath  topics  for 
discussion.  Only  official  passengers  can  receive  or  send 
telegrams.  Wireless  is  only  used  now  for  urgent  mes- 
sages of  strict  business.  Deck  games  are  played.  There 
is  much  dancing  among  the  second-cabin  passengers. 
But  one  does  not  seem  to  settle  down  to  the  conditions 
of  the  voyage,  as  one  used  to.  There  is  so  much  un- 
certainty. One  jx)or  little  American  woman  with  a  baby 
scarcely  ever  leaves  the  deck,  I  notice.  She  is  afraid  of 
being  below^  if  ''anything  happened."  A  truly  pathetic 
figure,  this  anxious  mother.  Some  of  us  spend  most  of 
the  time  calculating  how  long  it  will  be  before  we  reach 
New  York.  They  have  nothing  to  go  upon,  for  we  do 
not  even  know  where  we  are.  Though  the  ship's  run  is 
announced  each  noon,  its  position  on  the  chart  is  not 
marked.  But  they  go  on  making  their  calculations  simply 
for  something  to  do. 

Others  pass  hours  scanning  the  horizon  for  signs  of 
craft,  enemy  or  Ally :  at  so  great  a  distance  it  is  scarcely 
possible  to  distinguish  friend  from  foe.  One  afternoon 
a  ship  which  puzzles  even  our  officers  comes  well  in 
view.    Our  guns  are  trained  on  her.    No  doubt  hers  are 


34         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

trained  on  us.  She  is  coming  nearer  to  us.  Can  she  be 
a  new  raider  escaped  from  Wilhelmshaf en  ?  "Watch 
for  a  flash  from  her  broadside,"  suggests  a  passenger  al- 
ways hoping  for  an  adventure,  ''and  if  you  see  it,  throw 
yourself  on  deck  quick."  But  no  flash  comes,  and  the 
mystery  ship,  after  inspecting  us,  turns  away  again.  Still 
it  is  an  exciting  little  episode. 

Some  ships  have  more  adventures  than  others.  One 
which  followed  ours  after  a  short  interval  had  a  narrow 
escape  of  being  hit  by  a  torpedo.  At  half-past-ten  one 
morning  a  woman  jumped  from  her  deck-chair  and  cried 
out  "Look,  look,  what  is  it?"  At  the  same  moment  the 
crews  of  the  gun  became  suddenly  even  more  intent  and 
earnest  than  usual.  One  or  two  who  had  either  heard 
the  woman's  cry  or  seen  the  gun-crews  stiffen,  noticed 
a  white  track  approach  the  ship  and  pass  her  just  astern. 

"Was  it  really  a  torpedo?"  said  the  chief  gunnery  offi- 
cer afterwards,  replying  to  some  Doubting  Thomas  pas- 
sengers. "Sure  thing  it  was  a  torpedo.  I  saw  it  from 
the  bridge,  and  I  caught  sight  of  the  periscope  of  the 
U-boat  that  let  us  have  it.  But  next  moment  our  smoke 
had  hidden  it.     We  couldn't  get  a  shot  in." 

This  same  ship  experienced  another  alarm.  On  a  hot 
Sunday  afternoon  just  after  tea-time  the  electric  bells 
began  ringing  through  the  ship.  All  passengers  on  deck 
were. made  to  scurry  inside  and  to  gather  at  the  head  of 
the  main  stairway.  The  doors  were  shut  and  then  fol- 
lowed instantly  the  tearing,  deafening  report  of  a  gun. 
"Put  on  your  lifebelts"  was  the  order  given.  With  ad- 
mirable courage  and  coolness  the  women  obeyed,  then 
awaited  further  developments.  Their  hearts  beat  faster 
than  usual.  They  were  some  of  them  a  little  white  about 
the  lips.  But  they  had  coimted  the  cost  of  what  they 
did  before  they  started.    They  showed  no  fear. 


CROSSING  THE  ATLANTIC  IN  WAR-TIME        35 

Again  and  again  that  sound  which  made  even  men 
jump  and  stuff  handkerchiefs  into  their  ears,  was  re- 
peated. Windows  were  broken  all  over  the  ship.  The 
flashes  made  those  who  looked  out  think  for  the  moment 
that  they  were  blinded.  The  crashes  set  nerves  on  edge, 
made  all  who  had  never  heard  gun-fire  at  close  quarters 
before  feel  quite  sure  that  they  never  wanted  to  hear  it 
again. 

In  reality  there  was  no  danger.  A  strange  object 
which  had  at  first  the  appearance  of  a  submarine  peri- 
scope was  sighted  off  the  port  bow.  Taking  no  risks,  the 
gunners  fired  on  it.  As  it  drifted  past,  it  was  seen  to  be 
a  buoy  with  a  pole  sticking  out  of  it.  The  pole  was 
certainly  like  a  periscope,  and  as  the  buoy  rolled  in  a 
heavy  sea,  it  did  resemble  what  one  might  see  of  a  sub- 
marine's hull  in  like  conditions.  The  opportunity  for 
gun-practice  was  too  good  to  be  let  slip  Sixty  rounds 
were  fired.  Then  the  passengers  were  released,  with 
something  very  interesting  to  talk  about  for  the  rest  of 
the  afternoon. 

Though  there  are  so  few  of  us,  there  is  no  lack  of 
interesting  talk.  For  each  traveller  has  a  reason  for 
travelling.  The  type  of  person  who  drifts  from  one 
part  of  the  world  to  the  other  without  knowing  why  fills 
up  a  lot  of  space  on  Atlantic  liners  in  ordinary  times. 
But  not  in  war-time.  Every  passenger  now  has  a  defi- 
nite object  in  making  the  voyage,  and  it  is  the  people  with 
objects  in  life  who  are  the  interesting  people.  There  are 
a  number  of  young  men  returning  to  the  United  States 
to  serve  in  the  Army  which  is  going  to  help  in  finishing 
the  war.  There  are  British  men  of  business  who  have 
placed  their  services  at  the  disposal  of  their  country  and 
who  are  going  to  spend  British  money  in  the  United 
States.     There  are  plucky  young  Englishwomen  who 


36  LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

have  volunteered  to  work  for  the  British  War  Mission. 
There  is  an  American  newspaper  man  returning  from 
the  front  and  a  British  newspaper  man  commissioned  to 
tell  the  British  public  how  America  is  making  war. 

Plenty  of  talk  then  to  while  away  the  long  summer 
days  until  one  morning  my  Irish  room-steward  tells  me 
*'Ye'll  be  landin'  to-morrow  night  or  maybe  the  momin' 
afther."  We  have  all  been  longing  for  the  voyage  to  be 
over,  but  now  that  it  is  nearly  ended,  we  almost  regret 
it.  On  some  ships  the  men  passengers  are  asked  to  take 
night  watches  on  the  bridge,  and  they  grumble,  as  men 
will,  yet  they  are  regretful  when  their  duties  come  to  an 
end.  Why  is  it?  This  voyage  has  been  longer  than  any 
I  ever  made  across  the  Atlantic.  What  has  made  us  en- 
joy it?  What  is  it  that  will  make  us  look  back  on  it  as 
a  voyage  of  unusual  interest?  It  is  that  spice  of  adven- 
ture I  spoke  of.  It  is  the  tinge  of  danger.  Travelling 
has  ceased  to  be  humdrum,  uneventful.  It  has  become 
romantic  again. 


THE  AMERICAN  SOLDIERS  IN  FRANCE 


THE  AMERICAN  SOLDIERS  IN  FRANCE  ^ 

Headquarters  J  Canadian  Army,  France. 

Embedded  in  the  heart  of  the  great  Canadian  Army 
in  France  is  a  body  of  American  citizens  in  khaki,  who 
have  already  succeeded  in  effecting  another  of  the  sev- 
eral revolutions  produced  in  warfare  by  the  United 
States. 

The  first  and  most  important  was  the  aeroplane  in- 
vented by  the  Wrights,  of  Dayton,  Ohio.  The  second  is 
the  machine-gun,  originally  designed  by  Maxim,  with  the 
newer  Lewis  light  machine-gun  easily  carried,  or  for  use 
on  aeroplanes. 

The  third  revolution  is  one  that  I  would  hardly  be- 
lieve had  I  not  had  ocular  demonstration.  It  is  the  con- 
version of  the  British  Tommy  to  a  faith  in  pork  and 
beans  as  a  diet  instead  of  the  beef  on  which  he  has 
fought  since  the  time  of  the  Norman  conquest  of  Eng- 
land. 

These  Americans  in  the  British  Army,  with  whom  I 
have  just  spent  a  day,  are  part  of  the  topsy-turveydom 
in  which  we  are  living,  and  when  I  saw  them  marching 
back  from  the  trenches  to  the  tunes  of  "My  Country, 
'tis  of  Thee,"  "The  Star-Spangled  Banner,"  and  the  less 
classic  and  more  modern  ragtime,  I  wondered  what  the 
small  American  boys,  who  have  so  often  teased  me  on 

^  This,  the  first  account  of  the  Americans  in  our  Army,  was  writ- 
ten early  in  1917  for  the  850  journals  of  the  United  Press  of 
America. 

39 


40         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

Independence  Day  celebrations  in  your  country,  would 
have  thought  of  a  factor  in  the  war  that  is  not  sufficiently 
known  in  the  United  States. 

I  propose  telling  you  what  the  American  soldiers  in 
the  British  and  French  Armies  are  doing,  where  they 
come  from,  how  they  live,  and  why  they  came. 

The  Germans  are  particularly  bitter  towards  them,  and 
say  that  these  splendid  young  Americans  were  hired  by 
the  Allies.  From  the  German  point  of  view  the  pay  of 
the  Americans,  who  are  fighting  against  Prussianism,  is, 
doubtless,  princely.  It  amounts  exactly  to  a  dollar  and 
a  quarter  a  day.  I  leave  people  in  the  United  States  to 
judge  whether  that  be  the  sort  of  remuneration  that  is 
calculated  to  draw  American  university  graduates — some 
with  considerable  private  fortunes — ^business  men,  real- 
estate  men,  clerks,  lumber  men,  engineers,  across  the 
Atlantic.  The  falsehood  is  one  of  the  bits  of  German 
boomerang  propaganda  with  which  neutrals  are  becom- 
ing acquainted. 

The  Americans  in  the  British  and  French  Armies  en- 
listed in  divers  ways  in  the  first  few  months  of  the  war. 
Many  went  to  England  direct  and  entered  the  British 
Army.  Those  who  were  living  in  Europe  at  the  out- 
break of  the  war  formed  a  imion  with  the  British  resi- 
dents in  France  and  joined  the  French.  Others  went 
over  later  and  entered  the  flying  services,  where  they 
have  done  splendid  work. 

Early  in  the  war,  during  the  battle  of  the  Mame,  I  was 
billeted  with  a  number  of  our  dispatch-riders,  and  much 
surprised  to  find  that  the  particular  company  with  whom 
I  was  spending  the  night  were  mainly  from  the  United 
States.  It  is  almost  impossible  to  estimate  the  numbers 
of  Americans  in  these  two  Armies,  but  if  we  include 
those  engaged  in  the  noble  work  of  the  American  Ambu- 


THE  AMERICAN  SOLDIERS  IN  FRANCE        41 

lance  in  Paris  and  its  numerous  automobile  convoys,  it 
has  been  estimated  at  quite  a  sufficient  number  to  have 
made  the  American  language,  American  music,  and  Bos- 
ton baked  beans  familiar. 

A  great  feature  of  the  war  on  the  Western  front  at 
present  are  the  day  and  night  raids — a  stark  form  of 
individual  fighting  encouraged  by  the  British  leader,  Sir 
Douglas  Haig,  in  which  the  Canadians  and  British,  who 
have  a  considerable  force  of  Americans  with  them,  are 
adepts.  Each  raid,  as  I  have  said,  is  a  miniature  battle. 
It  was  in  studying  this  form  of  warfare  that  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  the  Americans  who  are  serving  with 
a  Canadian  regiment  reviewed  by  a  general  on  their 
return  from  the  firing  line  for  a  rest  and  a  New  Year's 
Day  dinner  that  was  a  week  late. 

By  a  curious  coincidence  the  setting  of  the  scene  was 
that  of  a  thousand  of  American  and  Canadian  lumber 
camps,  even  down  to  the  log-houses.  We  were  just  out 
of  shell  range  of  the  German  runs,  though  the  British 
artillery  was  talking  all  the  time.  As  the  men  came 
down  the  hillside,  through  the  tall  pine  trees,  it  did  not 
take  long  for  one  who  has  visited  most  of  the  States  of 
the  Union  to  detect,  despite  the  mud  and  fatigue,  from 
which  of  the  world's  continents  they  came.  They  were 
in  the  highest  of  high  spirits.  Released  from  the  cramped 
tension  of  the  always  shelled,  water-logged  trenches,  they 
came  tumbling  over  each  other  like  schoolboys.  All  are 
in  pleasant  and  happy  relations  with  their  Canadian  and 
British  officers,  which  make  for  good  fighting  and  do  not 
derogate  from  strict  discipline.  They  were  paraded  for 
a  moment  or  two  for  inspection ;  and,  as  company  after 
company  formed  into  line,  I  could  not  but  admire  the 
quickness — cumbered  as  they  were  with  all  sorts  of  equip- 
ment, and  an  extra  suit  of  caked  mud — with  which  they 


42         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

came  to  attention  and  eyes  right.  If  I  had  any  doubt 
as  to  the  home  of  these  stalwart  fighters  for  freedom  it 
would  have  been  settled  by  a  steady  movement  of  the 
jaws,  betokening  a  habit  which  is  rapidly  spreading 
among  the  English  and  French,  and  which  is  said  by 
doctors  to  be  quite  a  useful  relaxation  when  under  the 
fire  of  trench  mortars  and  Minenwerfer.  Before  each 
company  was  dismissed  I  was  allowed  to  make  them  a 
short  speech  and  to  mix  and  mingle  as  freely  as  I  chose. 
I  had  brought  with  me  a  newspaper  cutting  from  a  Ger- 
man source,  in  which  it  was  said  that  the  Americans 
complained  of  their  treatment.  I  had  only  to  read  it  to 
the  first  group  to  have  it  hotly  denied.  'We  are  having 
a  perfectly  corking  time,  despite  the  mud,"  said  a  Cali- 
fornian  with  a  figure  several  sizes  taller  and  larger  than 
Mr.  Hearst's  and  a  voice  as  resonant  as  Mr.  Roose- 
velt's. ''You  will  not  find  a  'grouch'  in  the  whole  'outfit,' 
except  that  we  had  not  expected  to  have  to  learn  mud- 
swimming  and  that  we  do  not  see  enough  home  news- 
papers." "As  for  that,"  replied  another,  "I  don't  want 
to  see  mine.  The  folks  sent  it  along  at  first,  but  I  stopped 
it,  for  it  gave  only  Fritzy's  side  of  the  case." 

I  found  lack  of  home  newspapers  to  be  a  general  com- 
plaint. All  who  have  relatives  or  friends  in  the  Ameri- 
can army,  should  see  that  they  get  a  newspaper  every 
week. 

These  American  boys  are  proud,  and  rightly  proud,  of 
the  deeds  of  their  own  American  men  and  officers.  In 
the  midst  of  this  vast  army — the  British  Army  in  France 
has  now  been  publicly  stated  to  exceed  two  million  men 
— they  occupy  an  anomalous,  if  proud,  position. 

Among  the  heroic  dead  there  is  no  greater  story  than 
that  of  Major  Stewart,  for  twelve  years  in  the  American 
cavalry,  who  joined  in  the  great  Canadian  attack  on  the 


THE  AMERICAN  SOLDIERS  IN  FRANCE        43 

Regina  Trench — named  after  the  Canadian  town  of 
Regina.  Though  not  engaged  in  that  particular  opera- 
tion, he  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  dash  over  the 
parapet  with  a  cry  of  *'Come  on,  boys!"  Terribly 
wounded,  he  endeavoured  to  struggle  forward  against 
the  Germans,  but  was  carried  back  and  then  killed  by 
shell  fire.  He  is  one  of  the  many  Americans  whose 
dare-devilry  has  endeared  them  to  their  Canadian  and 
British  associates. 

While  most  of  the  newspaper  dispatches  from  Wash- 
ington which  reach  the  French  and  English  newspapers 
were  full  of  the  word  *'peace"  these  husky  young  Ameri- 
can citizens  would  not  hear  of  it.    "To  h with  peace 

talk,"  said  a  bright-eyed  boy  from  Kansas  City,  "while 
these  slant-heads  across  the  line  there  are  enslaving 
French  and  Belgian  women  and  children.  There  would 
be  none  of  this  peace  business  at  home  if  the  people 
there  knew  the  facts."  On  New  Year's  Day  the  Boche 
soldiers  put  out  boards  saying  "Why  not  have  a  peace 
talk?"  The  reply  of  the  whole  Allied  line  was  an  artil- 
lery bombardment  which  clenched  the  question. 

A  blue-eyed  American  from  Wisconsin,  with,  I  should 
think,  Swedish  blood  in  his  veins,  said,  "Our  people  at 
home  do  not  seem  to  realise  that  talking  peace  terms 
with  the  Germans  still  in  France  means  a  German  vic- 
tory. The  home  folks  do  not  know  what  we  know.  In 
the  matter  of  fight  the  Prussians,  brave  as  they  are,  are 
down  and  out."  "The  German  Government  is  crying 
out  for  peace,"  added  a  hatchet-faced  Yankee  who  had 
gone  out  West  as  a  boy,  made  good,  and  thrown  up  all 
for  the  war,  "because  the  German  Army  and  the  German 
people  know  that  we  have  got  them  where  we  want 
them." 

There  is  little  bitterness  against  the  enemy  among  the 


M         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

Canadian,  American,  and  British  soldiers.  They  admire 
his  mass  fighting,  his  machine-like  disciplne,  but  they 
have  no  use  for  him  in  the  kind  of  warfare  now  going 
on.  ''You  will  find  the  Canadians  and  Americans  a 
thinking,  independent  army,"  remarked  the  distinguished 
British  general  who  had  given  me  permission  to  spend 
this  very  interesting  day,  and  so  I  found  them  to  be. 
They  had  brought  to  the  stock  of  vitality  and  knowledge 
embraced  in  the  wonderful  citizen  Armies  of  France 
and  England  the  qualities  inherited  by  the  generations 
which  have  spanned  the  North  American  Continent  with 
its  railroads,  chained  Niagara,  linked  up  the  world's 
cities  and  armies  by  telephone,  lit  the  dug-outs  with  in- 
candescent lamps,  cheered  them  with  canned  music,  and 
brought  a  thousand  other  mechanical  ideas  to  perfec- 
tion. 

If  you  take  a  map  of  the  United  States  and  go  up 
and  down  the  American  lines  in  France  you  will  find 
no  city,  great  or  small,  which  has  not  sent  a  flying  man, 
a  bomber,  an  artilleryman,  a  sniper,  or  dispatch  rider 
to  help  to  destroy  Prussian  despotism.  In  the  United 
States  you  probably  hear  more  of  the  spectacular  part 
of  the  American  work — that  which  enthrals  the  whole 
world — the  new  art  of  fighting  in  the  skies.  I  confess, 
indeed,  that  although  I  have  spent  many  weeks  at  the 
war  the  spectacle  of  winged  fighters  high  in  the  sun- 
light is  one  that  holds  my  attention  as  nothing  in  the 
world  ever  has.  In  peace  times,  and  when  we  were 
younger,  we  have  often  been  thrilled  by  a  close  baseball 
or  football  match;  but  when,  sheltered  perhaps  in  a 
trench,  we  see  two  specks  approaching  each  other  and 
with  a  pair  of  strong  glasses  gradually  realise  that  one 
is  an  American  who  has  given  up  everything — home, 
prosperity,  and  probably  life — to  throw  himself  into  a 


THE  AMERICAN  SOLDIERS  IN  FRANCE        45 

foreign  Army,  and  that  the  other  is  a  brave  German 
doing  what  he  conceives  to  be  his  duty,  we  recognise 
that  here  are  two  combatants  worth  watching. 

Very  rarely  do  the  Germans  venture  over  our  Hnes, 
and  one  has  to  be  very  far  forw^ard  nowadays  to  get  a 
good  view  of  a  fight  between  the  AlHes  and  the  enemy 
in  the  air.  I  have  had  that  good  fortune  several  times. 
Air  fighting  in  19 14  bore  as  much  resemblance  to  air 
fighting  in  191 7  as  an  old  steam  automobile  to  a  six- 
cyhnder  of  to-day.  There  is  a  perpetual  match  in  speed- 
ing up  between  the  enemy  and  the  Allies.  Four  or  five 
miles  an  hour  extra  pace  means  everything.  It  is  not  the 
increase  of  engine  power  to  over  200  h.p.  that  has  brought 
about  the  change  so  much  as  the  wonderful  progress  of 
the  art  of  flying  itself,  and  it  is  just  here  that  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  and  the  Frenchman  beat  the  slower-minded  Ger- 
man. It  is  just  for  this  reason  why  the  German  soldiers' 
letters  are  so  full  of  complaint  about  the  over-cautious 
German  airman. 

When  Pegoud  invented  looping  the  loop  people  asked, 
"Why?  What  is  the  use  of  it?"  Pegoud  was  a  very 
considerable  inventor  as  well  as  a  flyer,  is  the  answer. 
Looping  the  loop  is  a  useful  manoeuvre,  and  it  has  been 
succeeded  by  that  extraordinary  development,  the  nose 
dive,  in  which  the  airman  seems  to  fall  like  a  stone  for 
thousands  of  feet,  till  the  spectator's  hair  rises  from  his 
head  in  horror.  Suddenly  the  machine  flattens  out, 
scoots  away,  and  you  find  that  it  is  only  a  trick  after  all. 
I  talked  with  one  of  our  wounded  boys — he  was  just 
nineteen— who  had  fallen  8,000  feet  owing  to  his  rudder 
wire  connection  being  shot  through.  By  a  miracle  his 
machine  straightened  itself  out  automatically  within  a 
hundred  yards  of  the  ground,  and  the  boy  is  alive  and 
win  fly  again.    I  asked  him  his  sensations :  he  is  probably 


46         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

the  only  man  in  the  world  alive  who  has  fallen  8,000 
feet — more  than  ten  times  the  height  of  the  Woolworth 
building,  New  York  City,  750  feet.  He  said  that  for  a 
long  time — what  seemed  like  hours — he  knew  that  he 
was  falling,  and  falling  at  a  tremendous  speed,  and  then 
he  lost  consciousness,  as  in  a  dream,  and  found  himself 
being  picked  out  of  the  wreck  of  his  machine  by  people 
who  thought  that  he  was  dead. 

At  the  beginning  of  an  air  fight  there  is  manoeuvring 
for  position  and  feinting  as  in  boxing.  There  are,  as  a 
rule,  two  men  in  each  machine — a  pilot  and  an  observer 
— except  in  the  smaller  types,  in  which  the  wings  are 
clipped  down  to  nothing  to  get  extra  speed  and  climbing 
power.  Knowledge  of  engine  and  plane  power,  quick- 
ness of  decision,  and  accuracy  of  shooting  with  the 
Lewis  gun  are  essential  to  the  pilot.  His  observer  is 
provided  with  some  form  of  pistol  and  often  with  bombs. 

The  rival  planes,  like  giant  hawks,  hover  around, 
above,  or  below  each  other,  till  one  more  expert  or  more 
daring  than  the  other  manoeuvres  his  opponent  into  a 
position  from  which  he  has  either  got  to  fight  or  flee. 
The  knock-out  blow  is  usually  a  sudden  descent  on  the 
enemy,  accompanied  by  accurate  machine-gun  fire. 
Sometimes  it  become  a  duel  with  Browning  pistols,  in 
which  the  men  are  so  close  that  they  can  see  each  other's 
eyes.  The  thing  is  over  before  you  realise  it.  One  ma- 
chine is  off  and  away,  and  the  other  whirls  and  crashes 
down,  down,  down  to  earth. 

The  British  Army  does  not  permit  the  names  of  its 
flying  heroes  to  be  published.  In  telling  you,  therefore, 
of  the  American  flyers,  I  must  deal  with  those  Ameri- 
cans in  the  French  Army. 

Lieutenant  Thaw,  of  Pittsburg,  was  one  of  a  number 
of  Americans  who  entered  the  famous  Foreign  Legion 


THE  AMERICAN  SOLDIERS  IN  FRANCE        47 

of  the  French  Army  on  the  outbreak  of  war,  and  is  the 
senior  American  flying  officer  in  France.  His  name  and 
that  of  his  colleagues  are  better  known  in  Europe  than  in 
their  own  country. 

In  giving  a  list  of  those  whose  names  are  known 
(some,  alas!  are  lying  beneath  the  wooden  cross)  I  can 
say  no  more  than  that  they  are  worthy  representatives  of 
a  great  nation. 

Lieutenant  Thaw  was  followed  by  Bert  Hall,  from 
Texas,  James  Bach,  D.  Masson,  Givas  Lufbery,  James 
McConnell,  of  Chicago,  Chouteau  Johnson,  of  New 
York,  Elliot  Cowdin,  Kiffin  Rockwell,  Clyde  Balsley,  of 
Texas,  Dudley  Hill,  of  Peekskill,  New  York,  and  Victor 
Chapman. 

The  policy  of  the  American  airmen  serving  with  the 
French  Army  is  that  of  the  British  and  French — to  at- 
tack. They  have  played  a  goodly  part  in  the  invention  of 
the  constantly  changing  tactics  of  air  fighting. 

My  last  recollection  of  the  American  soldiers  was  their 
well-spread  New  Year's  table,  at  which  was  everything 
the  tired  man  from  across  the  Atlantic  could  want,  from 
turkeys  to  dough-nuts. 

I  put  one  question  to  a  score  of  those  whose  mothers 
were  not  ashamed  to  raise  them  to  be  soldiers.  I  asked 
them  why  they  had  come.  The  reply  of  the  American 
in  France  is  the  same  every  time,  whether  you  meet  him 
with  the  Canadian  Army,  the  British  Army,  or  the 
French  Army.  They  all  say  words  to  this  effect : — "The 
sort  of  thing  that  has  been  going  on  in  Europe  as  the 
result  of  the  horrible  organised  savagery  of  the  Prus- 
sians has  got  to  be  stopped.  We  want  to  stop  it  before 
it  reaches  our  own  country.  We  have  come  over  here  to 
do  it,  and,  thank  God,  we  know  that  we  are  helping  to 
do  it,  and  it  is  to  be  thoroughly  done." 


48        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

•To  which  one  of  them  added  as  I  said  good-night:— 
"If  any  one  asks  you  what  sort  of  a  time  the  Americans 
are  having  just  hand  them  out  one  good  home-word— 
'Bully.'  " 


WHAT  TO  SEND  ''YOUR  SOLDIER' 


WHAT  TO  SEND  TO  "YOUR  SOLDIERS* 

A  NUMBER  of  people  have  asked  me  the  question  since 
my  arrival  in  the  United  States:  What  are  the  gifts 
which  the  soldier  in  the  field  most  gratefully  appre- 
ciates? Hundreds  of  thousands  of  fathers  and  mothers, 
of  sisters  and  cousins,  of  uncles  and  aunts,  will  soon  be 
wanting  to  send  parcels  to  the  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  American  soldiers  who  are  going  to  France  "to  serve 
the  cause  of  Liberty  in  this  great  war/'  as  President  Wil- 
son has  happily  put  it.  Unless  they  are  advised,  they 
may  very  likely,  in  the  kindness  of  their  hearts,  send  the 
wrong  gifts.  A  dear  oldMady  in  England  forwarded  to 
her  nephew  at  the  front  a  typewriter  "to  write  his  let- 
ters with,"  an  elaborate  picnic-basket;  and  a  manicure 
set  solidly  mounted  in  silver.  She  did  not  understand 
that  the  soldier  has  to  carry  about  with  him  everything 
that  he  possesses.  Her  gifts  found  their  way  swiftly 
to  the  nearest  pawnbroker's. 

Every  extra  pound  that  the  soldier  carries  on  his  back 
means  extra  fatigue.  At  first  he  begins  nearly  always 
by  loading  himself  up  with  all  kinds  of  articles  which 
add  to  the  comfort  and  convenience  of  life,  but  which 
weigh  a  great  deal  more  than  he  finds  it  pleasant  to  bear. 
He  soon  discards  them.  He  brings  his  burden  down  to 
the  irreducible  minimum.  One  day  I  came  across  some 
of  our  men  in  a  village  near  the  firing-Hne  who  were 
turning  out  their  waterproof  canvas  bags  with  a  view 

51 


m         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

to  lightening  them.  It  was  pathetic  to  watch  them  reck- 
oning up  what  they  could  best  do  without.  Soldiers  ac- 
cumulate every  variety  of  queer  ^'treasures."  One  had 
been  carting  about  for  a  long  time  the  head  of  a  Ger- 
man shell  *'for  some  one  at  Home."  He  had  to  choose 
between  it  and  a  tin  of  sardines.  Another  was  sadly 
contemplating  a  small  carriage-clock.  I  did  not  ask  him 
whether  it  was  a  present  or  a  "find."  It  was  given  to  a 
French  villager  in  exchange  for  *'red  wine  all  round." 

That  is  the  first  and  most  important  thing  to  bear  in 
mind,  then.  Whatever  you  send,  your  soldier  will  either 
have  to  carry  with  him  wherever  he  goes,  or  else  leave 
behind. 

Next,  remember  that  he  is  leading  a  simple  life  and 
that  his  needs  are  for  the  most  part  elemental.  Don't 
be  misled  into  saying  to  yourself :  ''Oh,  that  is  such  an 
ordinarv^  thing.  He  can  surely  buy  that  for  himself.'* 
Often  it  happens  that  the  soldier  is  out  of  reach  of  shops 
for  a  long  while.  He  may  be  passing  his  time  between 
the  trenches  and  some  village  behind  the  firing-line,  where 
all  that  can  be  bought  are  inferior  chocolate  and  ciga- 
rettes, these  at  exorbitant  prices.  At  many  points  there 
are  Y.  M.  C.  A.  huts  which  sell  all  kinds  of  things  that 
soldiers  need.  These  are  doing  a  most  useful  work :  they 
also  serve  as  rest-houses  for  the  men,  restaurants,  tea- 
shops,  and  entertainment  halls.  But  a  man  may  not 
come  within  reach  of  one  of  these  stores,  or  of  any  place 
where  he  can  make  purchases,  for  weeks,  and  maybe 
months,  at  a  time. 

Such  necessaries  as  soap,  toothbrushes,  writing-paper 
and  envelopes  are  apt  to  be  very  welcome.  At  all  events, 
sent  from  Home,  they  are  likely  to  be  of  better  quality 
than  any  that  can  be  bought  in  the  area  of  war.  I  recol- 
lect one  man  telling  me  he  derived  an  exquisite  pleasure 


WHAT  TO  SEND  TO  "YOUR  SOLDIER"  5^ 

from  washing  himself  with  a  certain  kind  of  soap  always 
used  in  his  mother's  house. 

The  best  sweets  to  send  are,  I  should  say,  chocolate 
and  bulls'  eyes.  Chewing-gum  should  certainly  not  be 
forgotten.  It  is  not  easy  to  buy  in  France.  The  bulls* 
eyes  ought  to  have  plenty  of  peppermint  in  them,  for  it  is 
the  peppermint  which  keeps  those  who  suck  them  warm 
on  a  cold  night.  It  also  has  a  digestive  effect,  though 
that  is  of  small  account  at  the  front,  where  health  is  so 
good  and  indigestion  hardly  ever  even  heard  of.  The 
open-air  life,  the  regular  and  plenteous  feeding,  the  ex- 
ercise, and  the  freedom  from  care  and  responsibility,  keep 
the  soldiers  extraordinarily  fit  and  contented.  Many 
have  assured  me  that  they  never  knew  what  it  was  to  feel 
perfectly  well  and  strong  before. 

Wrist  watches  are  welcome  gifts,  and  these  should  all 
have  luminous  hands  so  that  the  owner  can  tell  the  time 
in  the  dark;  they  should  also  have  the  little  protective 
covers  on  them  which  look  like  tiny  gridirons.  They 
are  valuable  for  keeping  the  watch-glass  unbroken. 
There  is  a  tiny  stove  sold  in  England  called  "Tommy's 
Cooker."  No  doubt  this  either  is  or  soon  will  be  pro- 
curable here.  The  spirit  which  it  burns  is  not  liquid, 
but  solid,  a  great  convenience  for  Tommy.  This  is  a 
useful  little  present.  Electric  torches  with  plenty  of 
refills  come  in  handy.  They  are  better  than  candles, 
though  these  are  at  times  worth  their  weight  in  coin. 
When  a  squad  is  settling  into  a  barn  or  an  outhouse  for 
the  night,  a  dark  night  and  a  long  night,  from  five  o'clock 
in  the  evening  perhaps  till  eight  next  morning,  the  men 
who  have  candle  ends  in  their  bags  are  envied  by  all 
their  fellows. 

Indelible  pencils  and  fountain  pens,  especially  those 
which  fill  themselves  without  need  of  a  glass  syringe. 


54         LORD  XORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

iie^-er  come  amiss.  No  matter  though  you  think  your 
soldier  has  one.  Very  Hkely  he  has  lost  or  broken  it. 
An}^vay  he  will  either  break  or  lose  it  before  long. 
You  may  be  sure  he  will  not  mind  having  one  in  reserve. 
The  same  applies  to  wrist-watches,  and  also  to  pipes. 
They  are  small  and  light  to  carry  in  the  pocket.  A  new 
one  is  never  superfluous.  Put  a  pipe  in  always  when 
you  are  sending  a  parcel,  if  he  smokes  a  pipe.  Put  one 
in  even  if  he  does  not,  for  he  can  "trade"  the  pipe  away 
for  something  else.  Put  in  some  of  his  favourite  to- 
bacco as  well.  Probably  he  cannot  get  it  anywhere  in 
France.  Nothing  will  stir  his  feelings  more  surely  than 
the  flavour  of  the  mixture  he  was  accustomed  to  use  at 
Home. 

Knives  are  necessities  to  the  soldier.  He  wants  them 
for  varied  employments.  He  must  have  strong  blades. 
He  requires  next  in  order  a  corkscrew,  not  a  flimsy  one 
liable  to  be  broken  by  the  first  tough  cork  it  encounters ; 
an  awl  for  making  holes;  scissors,  and  a  saw.  Knives 
with  these  attachments  will  make  him  happy  and  get  him 
out  of  many  a  difficulty.  Sm.all  "housewives,"  by  which 
I  mean  cases  containing  needles  and  cotton,  thread,  but- 
tons, safety-pins,  and  so  on,  are  an  immense  help  when 
minor  repairs  are  necessar\\  Nothing  bulky  or  com- 
plicated :  just  the  necessaries  for  sewing  up  rents,  sewing 
on  buttons,  stitching  burst  button-holes. 

Playing  cards  are  grateful  and  comforting  to  all  who 
find  recreation  in  card-games.  Decks  of  cards  get  very 
quickly  soiled  and  greasy  in  the  trenches.  Fresh  decks 
are  hailed  with  enthusiasm.  H  your  soldier  is  more  of  a 
reader  than  a  card-player,  send  him  books,  only  be  sure 
they  are  small  books,  "infinite  riches  in  a  little  room." 
A  tiny  selection  of  poems  by  a  favourite  poet,  or  a  min- 
iature edition  of  some  story,  some  essays,  some  work 


WHAT  TO  SEND  TO  *^^OUR  SOLDIER"  55 

of  research  or  imagination,  an  edition  that  will  go  Into 
the  pocket  without  taking  up  too  much  space.  That  is  a 
gift  which  will  bring  to  many  a  soldier  the  finest  pleas- 
ure of  all  pleasures,  absorption  in  the  visions  or  the 
thoughts  of  one  of  the  world's  great  minds. 

Remember  that  soldiers  at  the  front  have  a  great  deal 
of  time  on  their  hands.  They  need  occupation.  Select 
your  presents  with  that  in  mind.  ^Musical  instruments, 
if  they  are  small,  mouth-organs,  for  example,  are  much 
sought  after.  In  Italy  the  soldiers  play  on  little  man- 
dolins specially  made  for  the  front.  In  Russia  the  bal- 
ahka,  a  kind  of  guitar,  is  heard  ver^^  often:  the  con- 
certina too.  Many  French  soldiers  produce  charming 
music  from  shepherd's  pipes. 

As  for  warm  things  to  wear,  those  which  the  soldiers 
prize  most  highly  are  knitted  mufflers,  ten  or  twelve 
inches  wide  and  from  four  to  five  feet  long,  which  can 
be  wound  all  round  the  head  in  bitter  weather  or  passed 
about  the  body  so  as  to  form  a  woollen  waistcoat. 
Knitted  helmets  are  good  to  save  ears  from  frostbite: 
see  that  there  is  plenty  of  material  to  come  down  over 
the  shoulders  and  chest.  Mittens  and  thick  socks  are 
always  acceptable  in  the  weather  which  prevails  in  the 
north  and  east  of  France  from  October  until  April.  The 
socks  must  be  very  large  for  the  foot  which  is  to  be 
kept  warm  by  them.  Khaki  handkerchiefs  may  be  sent 
as  often  as  you  like.  They  are  better  than  white  ones, 
and  a  fresh  supply  is  always  handy.  Vaseline  is  a  good 
gift.  It  can  be  used  for  many  purposes.  It  serves  as  a 
lubricant.  It  eases  feet  that  have  marched  far.  It  is 
good  for  bums.  It  relieves  the  pain  of  sunburnt  or  wind- 
burnt  skin.  Pond's  Extract  is  another  useful  medica- 
ment.   Do  not  forget  safety-razors  and  shaving  soap. 

Those  I  think  are  some  of  the  chief  things  that  the 


56         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

boys  in  the  trenches  need.  But  most  of  all  they  long  for 
letters  from  Home,  and  for  the  Home  town  newspaper. 
World-news  they  get  in  English  or  French  journals :  it 
is  local  news  they  hunger  for.  Write  to  them  and  send 
them  such  newspapers  at  least  once  a  week.  I  have 
sometimes  had  to  turn  away  from  groups  of  soldiers  at 
the  front  because  I  could  not  bear  to  see  the  anguish 
on  the  faces  of  men  who  saw  their  comrades  reading  let- 
ters and  who  had  received  none  themselves.  Do  not 
let  your  soldier  have  to  feel  the  sharp  and  painful  sting 
of  neglect.  Keep  him  well  supplied  with  news  and 
loving  words. 


THE  ARMY  OF  THE  MAPLE  LEAF 


THE  ARMY  OF  THE  MAPLE  LEAF 

Headquarters,  Canadian  Army,  France. 

A  BRILLIANT  late  summer  Canadian  morning  in  Win- 
nipeg— Labour  Day,  when  hour  after  hour  a  procession 
of  stalwart  trade  unionists,  with  their  music  and  banners, 
passed  along  the  American-looking  streets  bearing 
proudly  the  emblems  of  their  trades. 


That  half -forgotten  scene  was  in  my  mind  as  I  waited 
by  the  roadside  in  Flanders  to  see  the  same  men,  square- 
jawed,  on  their  way  through  the  snow  to  the  ordeal  of 
the  firing  line.  For  some  of  these  Canadians  it  was 
their  first  trial;  others  had  been  *'over  the  top"  again 
and  again  in  the  raids  in  which  they  have  been  so  suc- 
cessful in  capturing  and  agitating  the  enemy. 

In  appearance  Canadian  soldiers  more  closely  re- 
semble British  soldiers  than  any  of  the  others  from 
overseas.  Many  are  of  a  great  stature,  especially  the 
Scotsmen  from  Nova  Scotia,  New  Brunswick,  and  Cape 
Breton,  some  of  the  descendants  of  the  disbanded  High- 
land regiments  of  long  ago.  Quite  a  number  speak 
Gaelic.  Most  of  the  other  English-speakers  are  of  the 
strong  and  stocky  Canadian  and  American  type,  which 
has  resulted  from  a  generation  or  two  of  the  natural 
life  of  the  out-of-doors  men.  The  French  Canadians 
are  smaller,  but  they  are  wiry. 

59 


60         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

The  Canadian  front  in  France  is  a  replica  in  minia- 
ture of  the  whole  vast  Dominion.  It  is  a  world  of  the 
railroads,  the  forests,  the  farms,  the  mines,  the  lakes, 
the  rivers,  the  banks,  insurance,  real  estate,  the  lumber 
camp  and,  dare  I  whisper  it?  even  politics. 

The  Canadian  soldiers  have  had  good  and  bad  luck. 
At  home  many  of  them  are  accustomed  and  willing  to 
rough  it  in  all  sorts  of  ways,  and  they  w^ere,  therefore, 
inured  to  discomfort.  They  had  not  experienced  damp 
mud,  and  the  dreadful  mud  of  that  first  rainy  winter  on 
Salisbury  Plain  was  a  real  misforttme.  They  bore  their 
trials  nobly,  though  so  arduous  were  the  conditions  that 
the  actual  mortality  was  serious. 

All  their  ill  luck,  however,  was  more  than  balanced 
when  they  secured  for  their  leader  one  of  the  ablest, 
as  well  as  one  of  the  best-liked  generals  in  the  w^hole 
war — Sir  Julian  Byng,  a  worthy  representative  of  a 
great  fighting  family. 

After  Sir  Julian  took  command  the  Canadians  hu- 
morously called  themselves  "The  Bing  Boys,"  after  a 
popular  musical  comedy.  In  one  battle  they  gaily  sig- 
nalled back  from  within  a  few  yards  of  the  artillery 
barrage  that  "The  Bing  Boys  are  here,"  denoting  their 
arrival  at  the  second  German  Trench. 

There  was  still  lingering  in  the  Overseas  mind  an 
old  lurking  suspicion  of  the  Imperial  Officer:  it  dated 
back  to  General  Braddock's  mishandling  of  the  American 
Colonists,  and  the  treatment  of  young  Colonel  George 
Washington  w^hen  he  was  fighting  on  the  English  side. 
Such  doubts,  however,  did  not  apply  to  Sir  Julian  Byng, 
who  had  the  absolute  confidence  and  affection  of  his 
warmhearted  and  practical  army.  Sir  Julian  is  a  big, 
well-made  man  with  strong  jaws,  strong  ears,  and  a 
strong  walk,  distinctly  handsome  with  dark  blue  eyes. 


THE  ARMY  OF  THE  MAPLE  LEAF         61 

His  military  experience  is  as  complete  and  varied  as 
that  of  any  officer  at  the  war.  His  Canadian  colleagues, 
General  Currie,  General  Watson,  General  Lipsitt,  and 
French-Canadians  with  names  like  Bubuc  and  Papin- 
eau,  all  spoke  with  the  same  enthusiasm  of  their  Chief. 

It  was  General  Currie  who  was  selected  to  succeed 
General  Byng  in  command  of  the  Canadian  Forces,  and 
who  still  commands  them.  He  is  a  huge  Ontario  man 
who  made  his  way  West,  gathered  a  fortune  in  Real 
Estate  and  Insurance  in  the  delightful  city  of  Victoria, 
B.  C,  and  has  proved  himself  as  good  a  soldier  as  man 
of  business.  He  is  probably  one  of  the  biggest  Generals 
in  our  Army,  and  certainly  one  of  the  most  silent.  Gen- 
eral Watson,  whom  I  have  known  for  several  years,  is 
the  owner  of  the  Quebec  Chronicle. 

Each  of  the  British  Armies  in  France  has  its  own 
characteristics.  One  of  the  keynotes  of  the  Canadian 
character  is  quick  adaptability.  The  boy  who  works 
the  lift  in  the  Vancouver  hotel  and  tries  to  sell  you  a 
corner  lot  may,  within  twelve  months,  be  running  his 
own  real  estate  office  or  developing  some  industry  far 
away  on  the  Yukon.  The  atmosphere  of  adaptability  in 
that  climate  is  infectious.  The  London  suburban  clerk, 
who  has  stood  the  dull  imprisonment  of  tube,  typewriter, 
and  bed-sitting-room  until  nature  has  burst  his  bonds, 
catches  on  to  the  Canadian  life  in  most  cases  with  a 
rapidity  that  is  due  to  the  vitalising  sunshine  and  the 
opportunities  that  offer  themselves  to  everybody  except 
those  who  are  born  temperamentally  as  ^'quitters." 

Sir  Julian  Byng  and  the  other  Canadian  generals  have 
utilised  this  adaptability  to  the  utmost.  Be  it  remem- 
bered always  that  the  Dominion  troops  are  undergoing 
experiences  in  contrast  not  known  to  our  own  men. 
Whereas  the  difference  in  life  in  England  and  Flanders 


62         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

is  not  very  great,  the  difference  between  Dominion  life 
and  European  life  is  vast.  The  absence  of  sunshine  and 
the  damp,  the  difference  of  the  diet  and  the  surroundings, 
constitute  an  hourly  and  daily  contrast  between  North 
American  life  and  ours.  It  is  the  French  Canadians 
only  who  have  an  advantage  over  the  others.  Billet  them 
in  a  French  village  and  they  are  at  once  at  home  with 
the  inhabitants.  Their  Louis  XIV.  accent  does  not  differ 
as  much  from  the  ordinary  French  as  do  the  dialects 
of,  let  us  say,  Picardy  and  the  Midi. 

Byng  and  his  Canadian  generals  utilised  the  speciali- 
ties of  the  daily  work  of  the  Canadians  with  signal  ef- 
fect. He  and  his  officers  ''got  together,"  to  use  an  ex- 
pression often  heard  in  Canada  continually  in  confer- 
ences and  lectures.  By  this  means  they  found  out  ex- 
actly what  particular  aptitudes  the  Canadians  could  bring 
to  bear  in  beating  the  Boche.  One  speciality  is  map-mak- 
ing and  surveying.  For  obvious  reasons  the  Canadians 
are  probably  the  greatest  map-makers  in  the  world,  just 
as  they  are  the  greatest  railroad  builders.  They  are 
map-makers  by  necessity,  for  they  have  a  rich  and  largely 
undeveloped  territory  forty  times  the  size  of  the  Old 
Country,  which  is  being  mapped  and  surveyed  continu- 
ously. For  the  better  accomplishment  of  their  purpose 
they  have  not  only  developed  their  own  map-makers,  but 
have  absorbed  the  best  talent  from  Europe.  That  skill 
has  now  been  developed  in  the  Canadian  Army  in  France. 
When  I  visited  Sir  Julian  two  features  of  his  small  per- 
sonal workroom  attracted  my  attention — the  theatre 
posters  of  the  Bing  Boys  and  the  red-hot  maps  showing 
German  positions  of  yesterday  afternoon  which  had  been 
already  photographed  by  aviators,  developed,  mapped, 
printed  and  circulated  up  and  down  the  line.  This 
would  be  ''going  some"  even  in  Fleet  Street.    Accurate 


THE  ARMY  OF  THE  MAPLE  LEAF         63 

photography  and  mapping  of  the  enemy  lines  is  a  life 
saver  of  the  first  importance.  How  often  in  the  earlier 
days  of  the  war  did  we  bow  our  heads  before  heavy  cas- 
ualty lists  caused  by  machine-guns  from  a  German  trench 
that  had  been  overlooked  in  the  planning  of  a  bombard- 
ment! 

I  have  described  so  many  Armies  in  outline  and  the 
broad  outlines  of  our  Armies  are  so  similar,  that  I  can 
only  here  deal  with  a  few  of  the  marked  differences. 
The  Canadians  are  great  as  raiders.  Each  raid,  as  I 
have  before  pointed  out,  is  a  battle  in  miniature,  and 
sometimes  quite  a  large  battle.  One  of  the  very  first 
of  these  modern  raids,  if  not  the  first,  was  successfully 
accomplished  by  the  Canadians  at  Messines.  I  find  that 
people  at  home  do  not  quite  realise  the  significance  of 
these  sudden  and  violent  pounces  on  the  German  trenches. 
Their  effect  may  be  gathered  from  some  of  the  German 
documents  with  which  I  shall  conclude  this  chapter.  In 
general,  it  may  be  said  that  these  raids,  which  began 
as  small  movements  for  the  identification  of  opposing 
forces,  are  now  a  successful  means  of  breaking  the  worn 
German  moral.  Snow  and  frost  have  been  no  deterrent 
to  the  Canadians,  to  whom  20  and  even  40  below  zero 
are  not  unknown. 

It  was  the  information  obtained  by  aggressive  raiding, 
and  by  air-photography  which  led  in  large  part  to  the 
splendid  success  of  the  Canadians  in  capturing  Vimy 
Ridge,  an  exploit  which  will  remain  marked  in  history  as 
lone  of  the  most  dashing  achievements  of  the  War.  This 
was  the  opening  phase  of  the  stubborn  struggle  which 
has  been  going  on  ever  since  for  the  possession  of  Lens 
and  its  coalfields  (now,  as  I  write,  high  hopes  are  en- 
tertained of  their  capture  within  a  short  time).  The 
storming  of  the  Ridge  was  an  operation  planned  with 


64         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

admirable  decision  and  brilliantly  executed.  Nothing 
could  have  been  finer  or  more  spirited  than  the  behaviour 
of  the  Canadian  troops.  Many  of  them  ''went  over  the 
top"  with  cigarettes  between  their  lips.  As,  at  one  point, 
they  lay  waiting  to  advance  further  a  captain  of  my 
acquaintance  found  himself  next  to  an  Irish  Canadian 
soldier  crouching  amid  a  whistling  of  bullets  and  burst- 
ing of  shells  which  for  the  moment  made  progress  in- 
advisable. Without  raising  his  head  the  soldier  looked 
at  the  officer  from  under  his  steel  helmet.  "Cap,"  he 
said,  ''there's  no  doubt  about  it,  this  is  a  dangerous 
war.'* 

Vimy  Ridge  marked  the  culmination  of  the  Canadian 
Army's  remarkable  upward  curve  of  efficiency  which 
began  when  it  found  itself  in  so  tight  a  place  in  the 
fighting  around  Ypres  during  the  Spring  of  191 5.  Their 
development  proceeded  upon  two  parallel  lines.  Staff 
work  went  forward  with  daily  increase  of  grasp  and  in- 
genuity. The  moral  of  the  troops  improved  at  the 
same  time  in  the  most  encouraging  way. 

At  the  beginning  the  Canadian  Army  had  to  set  to 
work  to  create  staffs  of  its  own  as  it  went  along.  Here 
I  should  say  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  are  not  yet 
fully  acquainted  with  the  terminology  of  war  that  staff 
work  includes  all  the  seeing  and  hearing  and  thinking 
and  planning  which  are  the  necessary  preliminaries  to 
military  operations.  Canadian  Officers  took  to  this  work 
quickly  and  with  penetrating  intelligence.  They  realised 
the  need  in  the  modern  battle  for  unity  of  action ;  action 
timed  with  exactitude  to  the  minute,  to  the  second  even; 
combined  action  of  the  different  arms.  They  so  skilfully 
co-ordinated  the  activities  of  artillery  and  infantrv^  that 
the  troops  now  move  forward  with  confidence  and  in  the 
perfect  certainty  of  being  supported,  and  of  having  the 


THE  ARMY  OF  THE  MAPLE  LEAF         65 

way  prepared  for  them,  by  their  guns.  It  would  astonish 
you  if  I  could  print  here  a  time  table  I  have  seen  of  what 
is  called  ''barrage  fire"  that  is  to  say,  fire  designed  to 
create  a  zone  of  death  which  shall  bar  the  enemy  from 
hindering  the  advance  of  the  men  with  the  bayonets  upon 
whom  in  the  last  analysis  the  capture  of  positions  always 
depend.  This  zone  of  death  was,  according  to  the  time 
table,  to  be  moved  forward  every  few  minutes.  Every 
company  officer,  every  platoon  commander,  knew  where 
it  would  be  at  any  given  second  and  was  able  to  time 
his  men's  movements  in  consonance  with  this  knowledge. 
The  steady  and  systematic  fashion  in  which  the  Cana- 
dians have  carried  out  the  tasks  assigned  to  them  during 
the  very  severe  fighting  of  191 6  and  19 17  has  been  due 
largely  to  the  excellence  of  the  staff  work  done  in  the 
rear  of  the  storming  columns. 

For  the  rest  it  has  been  due  to  the  moral  of  the  army, 
the  result  of  the  strict  discipline  enforced  as  soon  as  the 
training  of  the  men  settled  down  upon  serious  lines. 
That  discipline  stiffened  vmseasoned  recruits  into  the 
troops  who  held  Langemarck  in  the  face  of  fearful  odds 
and  in  spite  of  terrible  losses.  And  once  these  troops 
had  proved  themselves,  once  they  had  come  through  the 
ordeal  by  fire,  the  Canadian  Army  had  what  every  army 
requires,  if  it  is  to  do  itself  justice :  it  had  a  tradition. 
Langemarck  endowed  it  with  a  reputation  to  maintain. 
Every  man  felt  that  he  had  something  to  live  up  to. 
The  men  who  joined  the  regiments  which  had  already 
distinguished  themselves  were  taught  that  they  must 
never  let  the  regimental  prestige  suffer,  never  fail  to 
uphold  the  honourable  namic  that  had  been  won  before 
they  joined.  The  new  Units  as  they  took  the  field  came 
tmder  the  influence  of  this  inspiration,  and  so  the  whole 
force  was  welded  together  into  an  engine  of   steady 


66         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

power  and  unconquerable  zeal.  Traditions  have  immense 
value.  The  Canadian  Army  acquired  theirs  in  a  mar- 
vellously short  time  and  paid  heavily  for  them.  They 
have  been  of  inestimable  value  to  it. 

The  Germans  were  soon  taught  to  dread  meeting  the 
men  of  the  Maple  Leaf.  They  were  so  unwilling  to  en- 
gage Canadians  at  close  quarters  that  the  German  Offi- 
cers were  obliged  to  invent  a  story  that  the  men  from 
Canada  were  savages  who  killed  without  mercy,  refus- 
ing to  allow  any  enemy  to  surrender  himself.  After 
Vimy  Ridge  had  been  stormed,  docmnents  were  found 
in  German  dugouts  showing  that  every  effort  was  made 
to  terrify  the  gullible  Hun  into  putting  up  a  stiff  fight. 
"Remember  the  Canadians  take  no  prisoners,"  the  Ger- 
man soldiers  were  told  in  Divisional  Orders.  Day  after 
day  the  attack  was  expected  by  the  enemy,  whose  nerves 
wevQ  set  on  edge  by  the  tension  of  waiting  always  on 
the  alert,  and  by  the  alarming  stories  set  about  by  their 
officers.  When  the  attack  was  made  they  were  in  less 
good  shape  to  resist  than  they  might  have  been  if  they 
had  not  been  thus  worried  and  alarmed. 

German  discipline  sometimes  tells  against  the  ver}^  ob- 
jects at  which  it  aims.  Prisoners  taken  by  the  Cana- 
dians have  told  how  units  which  failed  to  hold  positions 
assigned  to  them  are  punished  by  being  sent  to  other 
points  of  even  greater  danger  or  by  being  kept  in  the 
trenches  far  beyond  their  usual  span  of  duty.  These 
prisoners  explained  that,  having  failed  to  repulse  attack, 
they  knew  they  would  be  victimised  when  they  got  back 
to  their  own  lines,  so  they  felt  their  best  course  was  to 
surrender. 

What  surprises  the  war  investigator  is  not  only  the 
quickness  with  which  the  Dominion  men  have  taken  to 
warfare,  but  the  completeness  with  which  their  Govern- 


THE  ARMY  OF  THE  MAPLE  LEAF         67 

ment  has  equipped  its  Armies.  The  Canadians  brought 
everything  with  them,  from  highly  skilled  surgeons 
and  nurses  to  maple  sugar.  Every  one  knows  that 
there  are  no  better  hospitals  in  the  world  than  such  in- 
stitutions as  the  Royal  Victoria  in  Montreal,  and  Ca- 
nadian nursing  is  famous  all  over  North  America,  from 
Edmonton  to  Key  West,  from  North  Sydney  to  San 
Francisco.  It  was  to  be  expected,  therefore,  that  de- 
spite the  criticisms  of  disgruntled  politicians  the  Cana- 
dian medical  arrangements  in  France  would  be  excellent. 
One  of  the  best  hospitals  that  I  have  seen  since  the  be- 
ginning of  the  war  is  their  fine  one  at  St.  Cloud,  just 
outside  Paris. 

I  spent  a  couple  of  days  with  the  Canadian  soldiers 
and  found  that  they  had  no  cause  of  complaint  of  any 
sort,  except  that,  unlike  the  British,  they  cannot  go  home 
on  leave,  and  are  therefore  doubly  exiled,  and  that  they 
were  equipped  at  the  outset  with  the  Ross  rifle,  which 
they  told  me  was  an  excellent  weapon  for  match  shoot- 
ing, but  a  real  friend  to  the  Boche,  as  a  Nova  Scotian 
explained,  when  it  came  to  warfare.  It  does  not  take  a 
Canadian  long  to  make  up  his  mind.  The  Ross  rifle 
was  automatically  abandoned  by  the  soldiers,  and  they 
are  now  armed  with  our  serviceable  weapon,  which  is 
as  able  as  any  to  withstand  the  mud  and  violence  of  war. 

Just  a  word  as  to  the  constitution  of  the  Canadian 
Army.  The  earliest  contingents  were  naturally  composed 
of  a  considerable  proportion  of  emigrants  from  the  Old 
Country.  Latterly,  native-born  Canadians  have  pre- 
dominated. In  fact,  on  my  second  day  with  the  Cana- 
dian troops  I  encountered  none  but  Canadians,  both 
French  and  English-speaking,  with  the  Americans  whom 
I  have  described  elsewhere.  The  French  Canadians  have 
so  far  not  enlisted  in  numbers  commensurate  with  the 


68         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

population  of  the  great  French  provinces.  But  those 
who  are  in  France  are  enthusiastic  soldiers.  Their  en- 
thusiasm is  largely  for  the  cause  of  their  French  kins- 
men. It  is  probable  that  if  the  French  side  could  be  ex- 
plained in  Quebec  by  some  of  the  brave  French  priests 
from  the  trenches,  French  Canada's  share  would  be  more 
worthy.  To  meet  them  marching  along  a  cobble-stoned 
road  of  Flanders,  dressed  exactly  like  our  English  sol- 
diers, but  speaking  French,  is  one  of  the  thousand  con- 
fusing incidents  of  the  front.  Captain  Papineau  told 
me  that  these  Canadian  Frenchmen  have  brought  back  to 
France  the  old  folk-songs  taken  away  by  their  ancestors 
between  two  and  three  centuries  ago.  Sometimes  as 
they  pass  through  the  French  villages  singing  their  songs 
the  old  inhabitants  come  out  to  hear  lilts  that  had  almost 
passed  from  their  memory.  A  Parisian  journalist  told 
me  that  their  French  has  intermingled  with  it  many  sea 
terms.  The  emigres  of  that  time  were  largely  from  Brit- 
tany and  its  ports,  and  to  this  day  they  continue  the  sea 
talk  of  their  fathers. 

One  of  my  Canadian  glimpses  was  a  little  procession 
of  shattered-looking  enemy  prisoners,  with  their  crest- 
fallen officers,  all  in  very  different  mood  from  those  with 
whom  I  had  conversed  twelve  months  before.  They 
were  not  only  cowed,  but — what  I  have  never  seen  in 
Prussian  officers  before — shabby  as  to  their  clothes.  It 
was  explained  to  me  by  a  Canadian  who  spoke  German 
that  it  is  the  arrival  of  the  big  guns  that  has  alarmed 
them.  For  years  they  had  relied  on  big  guns,  and  now 
the  British  and  French  have  biggef  guns.  Something 
that  had  never  entered  into  the  calculations  had  appeared. 

Let  me  quote  from  some  documents  captured  upon 
them.  Here  writes  a  lieutenant  of  the  170th  Regiment: — 

"You  are  still  in  Champagne  and  no  longer  in  the 


THE  ARMY  OF  THE  MAPLE  LEAF         69 

witches'  cauldron  on  the  edge  of  which  we  are  sitting, 
always  waiting.  During  the  last  few  days  the  air  has 
been  alive  with  aviators,  and  still  more  so  with  heavy 
shells  which  have  been  flying  over  our  heads.  Yesterday 
at  noon  there  was  an  intense  bombardment,  frightfully 
near  us,  at  Beaumont,  and  an  attack  which  is  said  to  have 
been  repulsed.  The  number  of  guns,  and  of  the  heaviest 
calibres,  too,  that  the  English  possess  is  uncanny,  and 
the  amount  of  ammunition  they  fire  off  quite  fabulous. 
And  in  addition,  which  is  so  bad,  their  airmen  are  con- 
stantly over  our  lines,  discover  our  batteries  so  that  they 
may  be  peppered,  and  are  always  attacking  our  captive 
balloons,  which  is  the  same  thing  as  putting  our  eyes 
out.  Meanv/hile  the  sky  is  black  with  captive  balloons 
and  hostile  airmen — but  of  that  I  will  say  nothing,  it 
would  be  merely  pouring  water  into  the  Rhine.  Solely 
the  English  artillery,  the  English  Flying  Corps  and  their 
balloon  observation,  have  given  them  the  success  they 
have  attained.  That  they  have  gained  no  more,  in  spite 
of  all,  is  due  to  our  German  infantry.  We  could  save 
several  thousands  of  lives  if  only  we  had  the  English 
airmen  and  gunners.  It  makes  one  despair  when  one 
thinks  of  it  all." 

From  a  Bavarian : — 

"The  war  fanatics  and  their  friends  ought  to  go 
through  this  literal  hell  and  feel  its  effects  on  their  own 
bodies,  and  then  they  themselves  would  surely  come  to 
the  decision:  Peace,  peace  at  any  price  is  the  one  and 
only  maxim  that  ought  to  direct  the  Government's  pol- 
icy.'' 

A  Company  Report,  5th  Guard  Grenadier  Regiment : — 

"I  urgently  request  that  I  may  be  relieved  to-morrow 
night,  in  case  no  relief  takes  place  to-day.  The  men 
have  to  lie  in  holes   (there  are  no  longer  any  dug-outs 


70         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

in  my  sector).  In  addition  there  is  very  brisk  and  well- 
aimed  artillery  and  trench  mortar  fire.  We  are  so  ex- 
hausted physically  and  mentally  that  with  the  best  will 
(and  that  is  not  lacking)  we  are  no  longer  in  that  phys- 
ical state  of  readiness  that  is  absolutely  essential." 

A  private's  letter : — 

"Not  a  day  passes  but  the  English  let  off  their  gas 
waves  over  our  trenches  at  one  place  or  another.  People 
five  or  six  miles  behind  the  front  have  become  uncon- 
scious from  the  tail  of  the  gas  clouds.  Its  effects  are 
felt  at  even  7^^  miles  behind  the  front.  One  has  only 
to  look  at  the  rifles  after  a  gas  attack  to  see  what  deadly 
stuff  it  is.  They  are  red  with  rust,  as  if  tliey  had  lain 
for  weeks  in  the  mud.  And  the  effect  of  the  continuous 
bombardment  is  indescribable." 

From  a  man  of  the  nth  R.I.R. : — 

"We  entrained  at  Savigny  and  at  once  knew  our 
destination — our  old  'blood  bath/  the  Somme.  We  re- 
lieved the  119th  on  October  7  and  had  dreadful  casual- 
ties that  night.  The  9th  Company  dwindled  to  29  men ; 
two  platoons  w^ere  taken  prisoners,  and  the  rest  were 
buried  in  the  dug-outs.  Our  company  has  up  to  date 
lost  30  men." 

From  a  letter  written  by  a  man  in  hospital: — 

"Our  regiment  was  suddenly  taken  from  Flanders 
and  flung  into  the  Somme  district.  Twelve  days  we 
stayed  there  and  were  completely  smashed  up.  Ten  days 
I  endured  that  hell  and  came  to  the  end  of  my  strength." 

From  another : — 

"Yes,  my  dear  comrade,  I  have  been  on  the  Somme, 
but  can  only  tell  you  that  I  have  been  through  a  great 
deal  in  this  war.  Such  a  slaughter  of  men  as  there  was 
there  I  have  not  yet  experienced,  for  in  two  days  our 
division  was  wiped  out.     I  cannot  help  wondering  that 


THE  ARMY  OF  THE  MAPLE  LEAF         71 

I  came  off  with  a  whole  skin,  but  there  were  not  many  of 
us." 

From  a  man  of  the  3rd  Reserve  Ersatz  Regiment: — 
"The  officers  we  have  up  to  the  rank  of  captain  are 
mostly  boys,  who  have  no  idea  of  anything.  They  draw 
high  pay  and  have  food  and  drink  in  abundance.  We, 
on  the  other  hand,  live  miserably.  We  do  not  receive  by 
a  long  way  what  we  should.  The  German  Government 
is  always  writing  about  other  States,  and  the  German 
Government  is  far  worse.  The  German  Government 
deceives  the  people  in  a  very  shameful  way :  one  sees  it 
now  very  clearly  in  this  wholesale  murder.  One  can 
hardly  help  being  ashamed  of  being  a  German.  We  must 
turn  our  rifles  round  and  destroy  the  whole  Government. 
Dear  Grete,  if  I  should  happen  not  to  return,  then  think 
how  I  have  written  to  you  about  it  all,  that  the  gang 
has  caused  us  to  be  killed  for  fun  and  for  sport.  It  is 
very  different  from  the  English.  That  is  why  they  have 
not  nearly  so  many  losses.  If  only  one  of  us  shows  him- 
self, then  they  use  up  plenty  of  ammunition;  but  they 
work  in  hundreds  without  cover,  and  our  guns  don't  fire. 
They  are  not  allowed  to — there  is  a  shortage  of  am- 
munition. The  newspapers  write,  of  course,  that  the 
enemy  is  short  of  ammunition.  By  that  they  mean 
that  we  ourselves  are.  It  is  quite  clear  that  Germany 
is  losing  and  is  getting  into  a  terrible  state.  It  is  all 
right  for  the  upper  ten  thousand.  The  canteens  make 
a  profit  of  two  or  three  hundred  per  cent,  not  for  us, 
of  course,  as  they  ought  to  do,  but  for  the  officers'  club. 
The  officers  here  live  in  great  luxury.  In  the  line  the 
officers  are  in  bomb-proof  dug-outs.  We,  on  the  other 
hand,  have  filthy,  wet  tumbledown  holes.  The  officers 
and  others  have  it  in  their  hands  to  take  away  our  food, 
which  we  ought  to  have,  but  do  not  get.     I  have  heard 


72         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

it  only  too  often  from  non-commissioned  officers  and  old 
soldiers  that  if  we  had  better  leadership  we  should  often 
have  been  able  to  do  something  without  heavy  losses,  but 
we  are  generally  too  late,  or  do  it  in  the  wrong  way 
and  with  heavy  loss.  If  the  young  officers  did  not  swank 
so  much  and  treated  the  men  more  like  human  beings  we 
should  be  more  content  and  more  would  be  accomplished ; 
but  we  hate  our  officers.  We  are  bound  to,  for  what  mis- 
erable grub  we  get,  while  those  swine  live  on  the  fat  of 
the  land! 

"Here,  in  Tenbrielen,  where  the  airmen  throw  bombs, 
and  where  we  shall  get  artillery  fire  very  shortly,  there 
is  a  dug-out  for  the  officers,  but  none  for  the  men.  In 
this  wholesale  murder  we  get  to  know  completely  how 
much  we  are  under  the  knout." 

***** 

Expressions  of  misery  such  as  these  are  being  voiced 
by  most  of  the  prisoners  captured  anywhere  between 
Alsace  and  Nieuport,  but  especially  on  the  Somme  and 
Ancre.  Excursions  to  other  theatres  of  the  war  are  re- 
garded as  more  or  less  joy  rides  by  the  Prussian  and 
Bavarian  soldiers.    . 

The  citizen  armies  of  the  British,  the  Dominions,  and 
the  French  peoples  have  anchored  the  greater  part  of  the 
real  German  forces  in  front  of  them,  within  easy  reach 
of  London  and  Paris.  It  is  the  German  object  to  detach 
these  armies  of  ours  and  scatter  them  in  little  packets  all 
over  the  world,  in  order  that  we  shall  not  kill  so  many 
Prussians  and  Bavarians.  The  Canadians,  who  are 
clear-sighted  people,  accustomed  to  big  tasks,  see  this  sit- 
uation very  plainly,  and  one  leaves  the  magnificent  Ca- 
nadian Army  with  a   feeling  of  content  that  they,   at 


THE  ARMY  OF  THE  MAPLE  LEAF         73 

any  rate,  have  not  been  recklessly  dispersed,  but  are  a 
compact  wedge  and  perpetual  menace  to  the  great  body 
of  Germans  immediately  facing  them  in  the  dreary 
snowscape  of  North-Western  France. 


A  CIVILIAN'S  IMPRESSIONS  OF  THE  WAR 


A  CIVILIAN'S  IMPRESSIONS  OF  THE  WAR 

It  is  a  strange  sensation,  that  of  being  the  only  man 
in  civilian  clothes  among  hundreds  of  thousands  of  sol- 
diers. 

At  first  the  attention  one  receives  from  eyes  always 
either  curious  or  suspicious  is  embarrassing,  and  even 
after  some  weeks  of  the  armies  one  never  quite  gets  used 
to  the  situation.  It  is  but  natural  that  soldiers  have  no 
use  for  any  but  soldiers  in  war-time.  Officers  and  men 
may  not  appear  to  be  anxious,  or  working  with  great 
intensity,  but  every  one  in  an  army  knows  that  he  is  part 
of  an  intricate  machine,  and  that  although  his  part  may 
be  only  a  small  one,  it  is  essential  to  the  whole. 


A  civilian,  therefore,  is  an  intruder,  a  mere  passenger 
among  an  overworked  crew.  Almost  the  only  civilians 
who  are  ever  to  be  found  in  civilian  costume  close  to 
the  fighting-line  are  members  of  Parliament,  members 
of  the  French  Chamber  of  Deputies,  or  an  occasional  ir- 
regular correspondent.  Regular  correspondents,  both 
with  the  French  and  British  Armies,  are  in  uniform. 
Even  the  kinematogaph  operators  with  the  French  Army 
are  in  uniform,  and  wear  the  steel  helmet  of  the  troops — 
as  well  they  may,  for  a  stray  shot  from  a  rifle  or  a 
fragment  of  shrapnel  may  wander  far  from  its  Intended 
path,  and  now  and  then  the  kinematograph  operator,  if 
he  is  to  take  a  great  picture,  can  only  do  so  by  getting 

77 


78         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

close  to  the  enemy.  Armies  objected  to  civilians  at  the 
beginning  of  the  war  because  they  feared  them  as  spies. 
It  is  now  thought,  however,  that  spies  with  the  armies 
have  been  practically  eradicated;  and  if  there  be  any 
spies  at  the  Front,  they  are  not  so  foolish  as  to  wear 
the  ordinary  overcoat  and  cap  of  civilian  life,  inviting  as 
this  would  do  a  demand  for  passes  and  other  papers  at 
every  turn. 


One*s  first  impression  of  war  is  chaos  and  confusion, 
and  the  immensity  of  it  all. 

Miles  back  from  the  battle-line,  it  may  be  a  hundred 
miles  or  only  twenty,  are  the  bases  at  which  all  the  army 
supplies  are  first  assembled  and  stored.     We  will  say 

that  the  base  is  the  port  of ,  and  from  that  base  are 

supplied  one  hundred  thousand  men,  with  their  horses, 
if  they  have  them,  their  motors,  bicycles,  rifles,  guns 
great  and  small,  machine-guns,  bombs,  aeroplanes,  ob- 
servation balloons,  clothes,  medical  stores,  beef,  bacon, 
butter,  cheese,  jam,  pickles,  pepper,  salt,  shells  of  all  sizes, 
cartridges,  forage,  harness,  cards,  portable  hospitals,  am- 
bulance-wagons, games,  and  a  hundred  and  one  other 
things  which  will  suggest  themselves  to  any  person  who 
has  had  something  to  do  with  the  equipment  of  a  single 
soldier  since  the  war  began.  All  these  supplies  have  tcs 
be  kept  at  high-water  mark  in  regular  daily  rotation,  and 
one  easily  understands  how  it  is  that  in  the  British  Army 
the  all-round  cost  of  a  soldier  is  between  five  and  six 
pounds  a  week.  Realising  that  what  one  sees  before  one 
are  only  the  supplies  for  one  hundred  thousand  men,  it 
requires  very  little  effort  of  the  imagination  to  picture  the 
colossal  stores  needed  for  the  four  millions  of  men  who 
are  fighting  in  Belgium  and  France  alone. 


A  CIVILIAN'S  IMPRESSIONS  OF  THE  WAR     79 

The  first  impression,  therefore,  of  war,  is  the  immen- 
sity and  complication  of  it. 

The  next  and  more  mature  impression  that  one  gets 
is  that  now  war  has  settled  down  to  a  regular  business, 
it  proceeds  at  the  bases  with  the  clockwork  regularity 
of  a  great  business. 


Near  most  of  the  bases  are  the  base  hospitals.  On 
what  a  gigantic  scale  are  preparations  made  for  the  cas- 
ualties in  modern  war!  How  truly  wonderful  are  these 
hospitals,  whether  they  be  of  the  Royal  Army  Medical 
Corps,  the  British  Red  Cross  Society,  or  the  Order  of 
St.  John  of  Jerusalem!  If  there  has  been  much  fighting 
recently,  the  hotels  which  have  been  turned  into  hospitals 
and  the  remarkable  hut  hospitals  will  be  filled.  There 
never  was  a  more  wonderful  work  done  in  the  world's 
history  than  the  care  of  the  wounded  soldiers  of  the 
British  Empire  in  this  great  struggle.  On  the  north-west 
of  France,  between  Etaples  and  Wimereux,  are  literally 
miles  of  hut  hospitals,  situated  on  high,  dry  ground,  on 
well-built  foundations,  with  well-made  roads,  electric 
light,  and  perfect  operating  theatres  and  dental  parlours 
' — hospitals  just  as  good  as  the  very  best  of  their  kind 
in  our  great  cities  at  home,  and  staffed  by  men  in  the 
highest  position  in  the  medical  profession,  many  of  them 
having  given  up  large  practices  in  London,  Montreal,  or 
Sydney,  as  the  case  may  be.^  Elsewhere  behind  the  lines 
are  other  hospitals  of  various  types.  To  these  establish- 
ments are  attached  wonderful  convoys  of  ambulances. 


*  Elsewhere  in  this  volume  I  have  dealt  with  the  Medical  Services 
in  a  chapter  entitled  "The  War  Doctors." 


80         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

Though  the  precision  ajid  violence  of  modern  weapons 
may  have  greatly  increased  the  danger  of  warfare,  sci- 
ence, Listerism,  and  mechanical  ingenuity  have  come  to 
the  rescue  by  providing  all  sorts  of  means  by  which  the 
lives  of  the  wounded  are  saved.  Chief  among  these  is 
the  motor-ambulance,  which  swiftly  brings  the  wounded 
man  from  the  casualty  clearing-station  in  the  field  to  a 
hospital  where  he  is  more  thoroughly  attended  to,  and 
then  direct  or  to  railhead  for  dispatch  to  the  nearest  base 
hospital.  It  is  wonderful  to  think  that  there  are  men 
who  have  been  seriously  wounded,  given  due  medical 
attention,  taken  to  the  base,  and  brought  to  London,  all 
in  less  than  eighteen  hours. 

In  addition  to  land  hospitals,  there  are  floating  hos- 
pitals, most  beautifully  fitted  up,  literally  sea-palaces  for 
the  wounded.  John  Bull  has  indeed  taken  good  care  of 
those  who  have  suffered  in  his  cause.  Let  us  hope,  and 
see  to  itj  that  he  will  he  as  thoughtful  for  the  disabled 
and  their  dependents  in  the  future. 


Leaving  the  base,  one  is  naturally  anxious  to  reach 
actual  warfare  as  speedily  as  one  can.  So  much  has  been 
written  about  the  British  and  the  Belgian  trenches,  in 
which  I  have  often  stood,  that  I  think  it  would  be  more 
interesting  if  I  described  in  detail  the  approach  to  the 
great  battle  of  Verdun,  one  of  the  greatest  struggles  in 
the  history  of  the  world. 

Verdun  is  in  Eastern  France,  about  one  hundred  and 
fifty  miles  from  Paris,  and  the  battle  zone  began  long, 
long  before  you  get  to  the  neighbourhood  of  Verdun 
itself.  I  went  to  Verdun  by  auto-car.  The  railways,  of 
course,  are  blocked  with  cannon,  ammunition,  food,  and 
troops. 


A   CIVILIAN'S   IMPRESSIONS   OF  THE  WAR     81 

Long  before  reaching  the  front,  twenty-five  miles  from 
the  battle,  it  had  been  obvious  that  we  were  approaching 
some  great  event.  Whole  villages  were  filled  with  sol-. 
diers,  resting  or  w^aiting  to  be  called  into  the  line.  There 
were  great  fields  full  of  artillery,  ''parks,"  as  they  are 
called,  and  vast  plains  covered  with  wagons  at  close  in-, 
tervals.  As  for  wheeled  vehicles,  whenever  I  see  one 
now  I  think  of  the  war.  Soldiers  frequently  travel  by 
motor-omnibuses  of  all  kinds  from  their  rest  places  to  the 
threshold  of  the  firing-line,  but  there  are  in  Europe  hun-. 
dreds  of  thousands,  I  might  say  millions,  of  horse  ve- 
hicles of  all  sizes  and  shapes.  Both  England  and  France 
have  responded  wonderfully  to  the  call  for  transport. 

In  August,  19 14,  we  at  once  requisitioned  trades- 
men's delivery  vans.  It  was  amusing  at  that  time  at  the 
British  Front  to  see  motors  belonging  to  well-known 
English,  Scotch,  and  Irish  breweries  going  on  their  way 
to  the  Front  laden  with  soldiers  or  shells,  and  also  to  see 
pleasure  motor  charabancs  with  the  names  of  Margate, 
Blackpool  and  Scarborough  emblazoned  thereon.  These, 
however,  have  mostly  been  either  superseded  or  painted 
the  dull  military  grey  and  khaki  which  one  associates 
with  this  grim,  grim  war. 

5)«  *  ^  :|:  ^ 

Waiting,  and  ominous,  are  vast  arrays  of  ambulances, 
both  horse  and  motor. 

Then  one  comes  across  huge  reserve  stores  of  am- 
munition. It  has  been  stated  that  up  to  the  time  at  which 
I  was  there  (April,  19 16)  the  Germans  had  fired  fifteen 
million  of  shells  during  the  battles  for  Verdun. 

A  million  is  a  very  large  number.  People  use  the 
terms  thousands,  hundreds  of  thousands,  and  millions 
glibly  and  rather  vaguely.     Certain  it  is,  however,  that 


82         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

the  French,  when  I  was  with  them,  had  millions  of  re- 
serve shells.  I  counted  certain  sections  containing  a 
thousand  shells,  and  could  judge  roughly  how  many  times 
the  amount  of  space  occupied  was  represented  by  quanti- 
ties of  other  shells  of  the  same  size  which  I  saw.  It 
was  in  this  way  easy  to  arrive  at  the  fact  that  of  great 
and  little  shells  the  French  had  many  millions.  Shells 
for  the  75 — or  the  British  three-inch — gun  take  up  com- 
paratively little  space  when  standing  on  end. 

But  it  is  not  only  ammunition  and  soldiers  that  are 
going  along  the  road  to  the  battle.  There  are  the  great 
supplies  of  bread  and  meat.  The  French,  covering  their 
Paris  motor-omnibuses  with  perforated  zinc,  transformed 
them  into  meat  wagons.  Everything  now  goes  to  the 
battle  on  wheels. 

^*  5|S  ^  3|«  ^ 

It  is  rarely  that  one  hears  bands  in  modern  war.  Once, 
on  my  way  to  the  battle  of  Verdun,  I  came  across  some- 
thing that  looked  like  a  war  picture — a  squadron  of 
lancers  with  their  pennants  gaily  streaming,  preceded  by 
a  corps  of  buglers. 

For  the  rest  this  war  is  a  horrible,  grim,  mechanical 
business.  Bravery,  of  course,  still  counts,  and  British 
and  French  bravery  has  done  much  to  meet  the  superior- 
ity in  big  guns  w^hich  the  Germans  undoubtedly  had  at 
the  beginning. 

Considerably  away  from  the  firing-line,  five,  eight, 
ten,  or  even  twenty-five  miles,  are  the  headquarters  of 
the  various  armies.  War  is  not  directed  from  the  bat- 
tlefield as  of  yore.  The  idea  of  Napoleon  and  Welling- 
ton eyeing  each  other  through  telescopes,  which  it  is 
alleged  they  did,  seems  ridiculous  to  a  modern  soldier 
who  has  not  seen  the  little  field  of  Waterloo.    The  Ger- 


A   CIVILIAN'S  IMPRESSIONS   OF  THE  WAR    83 

man  and  French  generals  at  the  battle  of  Verdun  were 
always  at  least  twenty  miles  apart.  The  headquarters 
of  a  general  might  be  the  headquarters  of  a  railway  con- 
tractor, with  its  maps,  plans,  clerks,  typewriters,  and 
innumerable  telephones.  There  is  nearly  always  a  wire- 
less station  outside,  where  the  various  communiques  can. 
be  read. 

My  experience  of  such  headquarters,  and  I  have  been 
to  a  good  many,  is  that  there  is  apparently  less  excited 
discussion  of  the  particular  battle  than  you  may  witness 
at  home  between  any  two  people  talking  of  it  in  the  club 
or  railway  train.  There  is  no  lack  of  information,  be- 
cause the  staff  at  headquarters  is  linked  up  by  long-dis- 
tance and  other  telephones  with  tlie  soldier  in  the  field. 
There  is  generally  distributed  each  day  a  little  bulletin 
giving  the  soldier  some  idea  of  what  is  going  on.  Other- 
wise, existing  as  he  does  in  a  line  that  is  hundreds  of 
miles  in  length,  he  would  have  the  vaguest  notion  of 
what  is  taking  place.  Indeed,  it  is  the  newspaper  that 
has  come  from  Lx>ndon  or  from  Paris  which  is  his  chief 
source  of  information,  for  in  those  great  centres  all  the 
news  of  the  war  is  collected,  explained  by  maps,  and 
put  forth  in  a  way  that  makes  it  extremely  easy  for  the 
soldier  on  the  spot  to  understand.  I  followed  the  battle 
of  Verdun  from  a  large  staff  map,  but  also  from  maps- 
cut  from  London  newspapers,  which  I  found  to  be  won- 
derfully accurate. 


Once  inside  the  final  cordon  of  sentries,  the  civilian 
at  the  war  attracts  but  very  little  attention.  People  do 
not  know  who  he  is  and  do  not  care,  but  they  realise 
that  he  could  not  have  got  there  without  proper  authority, 
and  as  everybody  is  very  busy  with  his  own  part  of  the 


84         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

great  affair,  the  civilian  sinks  into  the  comparative  in- 
significance which  he  should  rightly  occupy.  My  own 
personal  feeling  was  one  of  regret  that  I  was  not  able 
to  do  something  to  help  in  what  was  going  on. 

When  I  reached  the  battle  of  Verdun  I  was  confused 
at  first  as  to  what  was  happening ;  but  I  had  with  me  two 
most  excellent  young  officers  who  explained  the  position. 
I  was  reluctant  to  use  their  services,  and  was  relieved 
to  find  that  while  showing  me  what  was  taking  place, 
which  they  did  by  signs,  for  the  noise  was  sometimes  too 
great  to  permit  conversation  except  in  yells,  they  were 
carrying  out  part  of  their  appointed  work  of  observation 
and  were  busily  making  notes. 

*  *  Hf  *  *^ 

Does  the  civilian  incur  danger  in  war?  It  is,  of  course, 
the  object  of  military  authorities  to  see  that  he  is  kept 
as  safe  as  possible,  but  in  these  days  of  snipers,  stray 
bullets,  shell  fragments,  and  what  not,  he  must  share 
to  some  extent,  however  carefully  guarded,  the  dangers 
of  the  day.  I  have  had  a  number  of  narrow  escapes  in 
the  war.  Everybody  has  had.  I  did  not  like  it.  I  do  not 
believe  that  any  one  does.  I  cannot  conceive  that  any- 
body likes  to  be  in  a  village  that  is  being  shelled,  or  in  an 
open  space  that  is  being  shelled,  or  in  a  motor-car  going 
along  a  road  that  is  being  shelled.  I  have  noticed  that 
the  older  and  more  experienced  the  soldier,  the  less  he 
takes  chances.  There  are  chances  even  in  looking 
through  periscopes  at  a  considerable  distance  from  the 
enemy. 

There  are  chances  in  sheltering  behind  the  walls  of 
shelled  towns,  for  the  freaks  of  shell  fragments  are  ex- 
traordinary, as  are  the  freaks  of  artillery  bombardment. 
In  some  villages  one  wall  find  the  whole  of  both  sides 


I 


A  CIVILIAN'S  IMPRESSIONS   OF  THE  WAR     85 

of  a  street  down,  with  the  exception  of,  here  and  there, 
a  cottage  absolutely  untouched.  The  effect  on  the  earth 
of  one  of  these  terrific  bombardments  is  to  furrow  it, 
plough  it,  and  made  deep  holes  in  it,  as  though  some 
upheaval  of  Nature  had  taken  place.  Occasionally  one 
Avill  find  a  whole  area  bombarded  entirely  out  of  recog- 
nition— buildings,  trees,  and  trenches  so  smashed  and 
destroyed  as  to  give  much  the  effect  of  the  two  scenes  of 
earthquake  I  have  witnessed  in  the  course  of  my  travels. 
Very  often,  owing  to  mis-information,  the  enemy  has 
bombarded  for  two  or  three  days  points  that  have  not 
been  occupied  at  all.  It  is  not  true  that  every  bullet  has 
its  billet,  and  that  every  shell  does  material  damage. 
Men  are  so  clever  in  concealing  the  whereabouts  of  them- 
selves and  their  guns  in  the  present  kind  of  warfare  that 
I  do  not  suppose  one  shell  in  a  hundred  has  any  bearing 
upon  a  military  result.  A  great  many  of  the  people  who 
read  these  lines  will  have  seen  shells  made,  and  one 
regrets  the  waste  of  human  effort  in  this  horrible,  but, 
unfortunately,  necessary  business. 


When  I  first  went  into  the  war  zones  in  the  early  days 
of  the  great  conflict  the  soldiers  were  as  strange  to  the 
war  as  civilians  are  now,  but  they  have  learned  much. 
Above  all,  they  have  learned  never  to  show  themselves. 
They  are  infinitely  more  careful  than  is  a  civilian  on  his 
first  visit.  "We  never  go  along  such  and  such  a  route 
on  a  dry  day,"  said  an  officer,  "because  the  dust  raised 
by  the  motor  reveals  our  presence.  .  .  .  We  never  go 
along  that  road  at  night  because  the  Germans  believe 
we  bring  up  supplies  or  reliefs  by  that  route.  .  .  .  We 
long  ago  ceased  wearing  that  kind  of  cap,  because,  when 


86         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

wet,  the  sun  glistens  on  it  and  it  forms  a  kind  of  helio- 
graph." 


Of  the  many  devices  to  trick  and  deceive  the  enemy  I 
will  not  speak.  They  have  multiplied  amazingly  during 
the  long,  weary  months  since  the  beginning  of  the  war. 
I  believe  the  British  Army,  with  the  Canadians  and 
AustraHans,  is  pre-eminent  in  inventing  all  kinds  of  sur- 
prises. I  have  elsewhere  referred  to  the  fact  that  Ger- 
man prisoners  at  Verdun  spoke  to  me  of  their  satisfac- 
tion at  being  away  from  Ypres,  where  the  ferocious 
British  are!  Our  soldiers  are  individual.  They  em- 
bark on  little  individual  enterprises.  The  German,  though 
a  good  soldier  when  advancing  with  numbers  under 
strict  discipline,  is  not  so  clever  at  these  devices.  He  was 
never  taught  them  before  the  war,  and  his  whole  training 
from  childhood  upwards  has  been  to  obey,  and  to  obey  in 
numbers.  He  has  not  played  individual  games.  Foot- 
ball, which  develops  individuality,  has  only  been  intro- 
duced into  Germany  in  comparatively  recent  times.  His 
amusements  have  been  gymnastic  discipline  to  the  word 
of  command,  and  swimming  and  diving  displays  of  like 
kind,  at  which  the  Germans  are  very  wonderful.  It  is  a 
grave  reflection  on  the  deeds  of  British  or  French  sol- 
diers to  say  that  the  Germans  are  not  brave.  They  are 
brave,  but  in  a  way  different  from  our  kind  of  bravery. 
They  do  not  take  war  in  the  British  spirit,  which  they 
consider  to  be  frivolous  and  too  much  akin  to  sport,  or  in 
the  French  spirit,  which  is  that  of  the  fierceness  that 
comes  to  men  who  are  defending  their  native  land. 

4:  *  *  ^t  * 

Germans  are  naturally,  so  far  as  the  Prussians  and 


A  CIVILIAN'S  IMPRESSIONS   OF  THE  WAR     87 

Bavarians  are  concerned,  extremely  cruel.  German  non- 
commissioned officers  when  taken  prisoners  with  their 
men  treat  their  private  soldiers  with  a  bullying  savagery 
that  is  astonishing,  and  officer  prisoners  decline  abso- 
lutely to  pay  any  attention  to  their  men,  even  though 
they  have  been  wounded.  A  French  officer,  who  had 
been  taken  prisoner  by  the  Germans,  told  me  that  though 
the  Germans  treated  their  lightly  wounded  men  with 
extreme  care,  because  they  wished  to  get  them  back  into 
the  firing-line  quickly,  the  very  badly  wounded  cases  were 
neglected  until  the  last. 

Indeed,  the  wounded  man  is  not  the  hero  in  war  that 
we  make  him  at  home.  He  is  well  looked  after,  but 
the  chief  object  of  an  army  is  to  get  fit  men  where  they 
can  do  most  work,  and  to  get  them  forward  as  rapidly 
as  possible.  Thus  it  is  that  the  advance  of  new  men  to 
the  battle  from  places  where  they  are  being  rested,  to- 
gether with  their  supplies,  takes  precedence  of  every- 
thing on  the  road  or  railway.  The  object  of  both  sides 
is  to  win,  and  while,  as  I  say,  every  care  is  taken  of  the 
wounded,  priority  is  given  to  the  forwarding  of  fighting 
men. 

^  :|c  j|i  :|c  * 

France  is  so  well  supplied  with  roads  that  often  as 
not  a  certain  road  is  reserved  for  traffic  going  to  the 
battle,  and  another  for  that  which  is  returning.  I  often 
wonder  what  would  happen  if  war  were  to  take  place  in 
England,  with  our  small,  narrow  lanes  and  well-kept  but 
illogically  arranged  roadways.  There  would  be  beyond 
question  an  immense  and  dangerous  congestion  of  traf- 
fic. The  road,  say,  from  London  to  Dover,  one  of  the 
principal  highways  in  England,  is  in  one  part  extremely 
narrow  and  tortuous.     I  presume  the  authorities  have 


88         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

thought  out  all  these  things,  but  it  is  a  fact,  which  any 
foreigner  can  detect  by  looking  at  our  maps,  that  we  are 
not  well  provided  with  strategic  railways  or  strategic 
roads.  In  France  they  have  also  the  great  advantage  of 
"wonderful  canals,  not  the  ditches  to  which  we  give  that 
appellation,  but  wide  waterways  carrying  big  barges, 
which,  turned  into  hospitals,  have  been  of  the  greatest 
use  in  the  transport  of  cases  requiring  great  care.  These 
floating  hospitals  are  quiet,  cool,  and  well  ventilated, 
and  have  been  of  great  utility. 


As  the  war  has  progressed,  and  one  must  always  bear 
in  mind  that  each  month  has  changed  it,  there  has  been 
a  great  development  of  air  fighting.  The  first  air  fight 
I  witnessed  was  a  very  vague  affair,  in  which  neither  side 
seemed  to  do  very  much,  but  every  pair  of  eyes  for  miles 
was  watching  it.  To-day  air  fights  are  very  common  oc- 
currences, and  on  the  whole  are  most  dramatic  and  in- 
teresting to  watch,  but  they  do  not  engage  anything  like 
the  attention  they  originally  did.  The  fighting  aero- 
plane, with  its  handy  machine-gun  so  arranged  that  it 
can  assail  the  enemy  from  many  angles,  is  developing 
every  month.  It  used  to  be  said  that  the  air  was  the 
safest  place  in  the  war.  That  is  no  longer  true.  A  great 
French  general,  w-ho  knew  what  he  was  talking  about, 
told  me  that  the  air  fighters  were,  he  thought,  the  most 
courageous  men  of  all.  When  I  looked  at  the  modern 
fighting  aeroplane,  described  in  the  next  chapter,  with 
its  200  h.p.  engine,  and  compared  it  w4th  the  planes  of 
seven  or  eight  years  ago  in  which  I  made  a  few  flights, 
1  realised  that  war  has  developed  the  aeroplane  at  a 
speed  that  would  not  have  been  possible  in  peace-time. 
Yet  even  nov/  human  ingenuity  has  not  been  able  to  in- 


A   CIVILIAN'S  IMPRESSIONS   OF  THE  WAR     89 

vent  an  aeroplane  that  can  hover  or  keep  even  relatively 
still  in  the  air. 


The  v^ar  zone  is  a  world  apart.  After  a  few  days' 
immersion  therein  one  becomes  so  completely  absorbed  in 
the  activities  around  that  the  outer  world  is  entirely  for- 
gotten. There  is  practically  no  night  or  day  in  that 
curious  land,  and  there  is  sometimes  as  much  activity 
in  the  hours  of  darkness  as  in  the  hours  of  daylight. 
There  are  none  of  the  long  reliefs  from  fighting  that 
were  experienced  so  lately  as  the  Napoleonic  wars. 
There  is  no  longer  a  going  into  winter  quarters.  The 
battle  of  Verdun  was  commenced  in  the  freezing  month 
of  February.  The  strain  of  modern  warfare  is,  there- 
fore, so  great  that  I  am  of  the  opinion  that  as  much  leave 
as  possible  should  be  given  to  the  men,  and  more  to  offi- 
cers— and  especially  to  officers  of  the  higher  command. 
I  know  this  is  not  the  view  of  those  who  think  that 
continued  absences  make  for  slack  discipline.  I  have  not 
observed  or  heard  of  any  actual  cases  of  weakness  in 
discipline  due  to  holiday.  I  have,  however,  met  at  the 
Front  many  men  I  knew  in  peace  time  who  are  showing 
sign  of  war  fatigue,  and  a  tired  man  is  of  no  use  in  war 
or  any  other  worldly  affair. 

Three  years  ago  very  few  people  had  any  idea  of  the 
nature  of  the  coming  warfare.  Not  one  modern  mili- 
tary writer  gave  warning  of  the  intensity  of  the  atten- 
tion with  which  each  army  would  watch  the  other  at  close 
range  and  with  all  kinds  of  new  and  unexpected  weapons. 


HOW  IT  FEELS  IN  A  SUBMARINE,  IN  AN 
AEROPLANE,  IN  A  TANK 


HOW  IT  FEELS  IN  A  SUBMARINE,  IN  AN 
AEROPLANE,  IN  A  TANK 

The  appearance  of  His  Majesty's  landships  commonly 
known  throughout  the  world  as  Tanks  is  fairly  familiar, 
but  I  do  not  remember  reading  any  account  of  a  journey 
in  one  of  them.  I  am  among  the  privileged  few  who 
have  enjoyed  the  entirely  different  sensations  of  Tank- 
ing, Submarining  and  Aeroplaning,  and  I  propose  to  set 
down  here  my  experiences  of  all  three  methods  of  move- 
ment. 

The  history  of  the  Tank  is  the  history  of  the  adapta- 
bility and  the  reticence  of  the  English  People,  displayed 
whenever  such  qualities  are  necessary  to  the  attainment 
of  any  urgent  purpose.  Nobody  invented  the  Tanks. 
They  grew.  The  idea  behind  them  is  as  old  as  the  Ro- 
man testudo  and  battering-ram.  They  are  a  combina- 
tion of  both.  I  reveal  no  secret  in  describing  the  Tanks, 
for  at  least  one  of  our  fleet  has  fallen  into  German 
hands  and  the  enemy  have  had  ample  opportunity  to 
study  this  marv^ellous  box  of  mechanism. 

In  the  light-hearted  way  in  which  we  Britons  go  to 
war,  our  soldiers  name  the  Tanks  with  a  frivolity  which 
is  intensely  annoying  to  the  thick-headed  Prussian.  One 
of  my  particular  Tanks  w^as  called  the  "Creme  de 
Menthe"  .  .  .  why  neither  I  nor  any  one  else  knew. 
We  entered  the  huge  steel  tortoise  by  a  close-fitting  door 
and  sat  within  that  which  resembled  in  appearance  and 
atmosphere  the  engine-room  of  a  yacht.     On  our  heads 

93 


94         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

we  put  leather-padded  helmets  such  as  axe  worn  by  air- 
men. They  were  necessary,  for  when  these  land-crabs 
get  started,  the  men  who  steer  them  and  the  men  who 
man  the  guns  are  buffetted  about  with  a  motion  re- 
sembling that  of  a  rowing  boat  in  an  Atlantic  gale. 

We  started  smoothly  enough  along  a  highroad,  I 
looked  round  at  my  companions.  The  men  who  form 
the  crews  of  the  Tanks  are  young  daredevils  who,  fully 
knowing  that  they  will  be  a  special  mark  for  every  kind 
of  Prussian  weapon,  enter  upon  their  task  in  a  sporting 
spirit  with  the  same  cheery  enthusiasm  as  they  would 
show  for  football.  They  soon  proved  to  me  that  they 
were  absolute  masters  of  their  queer  machine.  They 
revelled  in  the  fact  that  the  Tanks  had  been  designed, 
constructed,  practised,  and  sent  over  from  England  to 
France  as  a  complete  surprise  to  the  enemy.  They  chuck- 
led as  they  told  me  how  the  word  Tanks  *'had"  deceived 
everybody. 

For  many  months  these  monsters  were  in  course  of 
construction  in  an  inland  English  town,  and  all  that  any- 
body knew  about  them  was  that  they  were  "Tanks," 
presumably  large  vessels  for  conveying  oil  or  water.  So 
little  curiosity  was  aroused  that  a  high  official  of  the 
English  railway  which  carried  them  did  not  even  take  the 
trouble  to  look  at  them.  He  was  told  to  provide  trans- 
port for  a  number  of  "very  large  tanks,"  and  he  did  so 
in  the  ordinary  course  of  business,  not  realising  that  his 
road  was  carrying  one  of  the  only  original  devices  evolved 
during  this  war. 

The  speed  of  the  Creme  de  Menthe  on  the  level  was 
from  four  to  five  miles  an  hour.  But  the  Tanks  are  de- 
veloping rapidly  in  size,  speed  and  pushing  power.  Even 
the  first  Tanks  were  able  to  walk  through  a  wood  as  easily 
as  a  man  walks  through  tall  grass.    On  the  level  highway 


HOW  IT  FEELS  IN  A  SUBMARINE  95 

the  sensation  of  riding  in  them  is  about  that  of  riding 
on  a  reaping  machine.  Suddenly  the  steersman  turned 
off  the  road  and  drove  down  a  deep  shell-hole  resembling 
a  wash-out.  I  held  on  to  the  nearest  piece  of  machinery 
which  was  not  in  movement:  most  of  it  was  moving 
vigourously  and  most  of  it  was  hot. 

The  great  beast  crept  cautiously  down,  seeming  to  pick 
its  way  as  an  elephant  does.  Tanks  have  eyes,  narrow 
slits  of  glass  half  a  foot  thick  and  proof  against  anything 
except  shell.  Before  I  had  time  to  peer  out,  we  had 
passed  over  the  bottom  of  the  shell-hole  and  were  slowly 
but  surely  grinding  our  way  up  at  an  angle  of  forty-five 
degrees. 

My  sensations  at  this  moment  were  those  of  tremen- 
dous noise  (noisy  the  Tanks  are  at  all  times)  and  of  dis- 
comfort from  gasoline  fumes,  and  I  was  not  a  little  ap- 
prehensive that  the  rough  going,  the  see-sawing,  the  sud- 
den dipping  and  rising,  might  detonate  one  of  tjie  many 
hundred  small  shells  with  which  the  Tanlc  was  lined. 
However,  the  smiling  optimism  and  enthusiasm  of  the 
crew  dispelled  anxiety,  even  though  they  could  not  re- 
move the  discomfort. 

Once  on  smooth  ground  again,  the  Tank  seemed  to 
shake  itself  as  though  to  get  rid  of  a  burden,  and  to  be 
anxious  to  proceed. 

Tanks  are  propelled,  as  can  be  seen  from  photographs, 
by  power  applied  to  continuous  bands  known  as  ''cater- 
pillars," familiar  in  some  parts  of  the  United  States  in 
"lionnexion  with  agricultural  machinery.  We  drove  for- 
ward and  nosed  our  way  through  a  fringe  of  young 
trees.  We  did  not  notice  them.  We  had  no  knowledge 
for  some  while  that  we  were  pushing  our  way  through 
that  which  would  have  barred  the  progress  of  either  horse 
or  man.    Now  and  then  some  sapling  would  spring  back 


96         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

and  lash  the  side  of  our  Tank.  But  for  this  the  inmates 
of  the  steel  monster  would  have  been  unaware  of  any- 
imped  iment. 

Presently  we  stopped  and  the  captain,  after  surveying 
our  surroimdings  through  one  of  the  long  narrow  eyes, 
invited  me  to  take  a  peep.  I  looked  out  and  saw  the  fa- 
miliar shell-wrecked  land  of  battle. 

"Can  you  see  anything  particular?"  he  asked  me.  I 
looked  again  and  saw  nothing  to  remark  upon. 

"Can't  you  see  another  Tank  coming  up?" 

I  could  not  see  it  until  it  was  pointed  out.  The  Tanks 
are  so  cunningly  painted  and  so  entirely  resemble  the  land 
over  which  they  travel,  that  they  are  invisible  except  to 
those  accustomed  to  seek  for  them.  After  this  we  re- 
turned by  the  smoothest  places  possible  to  our  starting- 
point,  the  door  opened,  and  I  stepped  out  of  the  dim  light 
inside  into  the  bright  sunshine. 

Tanks  are  provided  with  a  certain  amount  of  food, 
drinking  water  and  surgical  field  dressings.  As  I  have 
said,  they  are  boxes  of  machinery,  in  which  no  single 
inch  of  space  is  wasted.  They  are  manned  by  men  as 
nimble  as  cats,  having  no  sense  of  danger.  They  have 
proved  the  best  means  of  ferreting  out  and  destroying 
German  machine-gun  nests.  Single  Tanks  have  fought 
small  battles  of  their  own  against  whole  companies  of  the 
enemy.  They  are  a  real  and  justifiable  means  of  waging 
war :  they  wage  it  only  against  soldiers,  not  against  civil- 
ians; and  the  German  soldiers  find  them  terrible  enemies. 
A  prisoner  taken  a  few  weeks  ago  in  Flanders  said : — 
"We  had  been  told  by  our  newspapers  to  laugh  at  the 
tank,  but  we  very  soon  found  they  were  no  laughing 
matter." 

The  men  who  journey  in  them  take  their  lives  in  their 
hands  every  time  they  go  out.    The  British  Army  is  justly 


HOW  IT  FEELS  IN  A  SUBMARINE  9"^ 

proud  of  the  daring  and  success  of  those  who  are  engaged 
in  this  newest  form  of  crushing  MiUtarism. 

:fc  sK  }|<  ^  jjs 

Quite  a  different  experience  from  that  of  crawHng 
along  the  ground  in  a  land-ship  is  a  rush  upward  towards 
the  sky  in  a  fast  war-plane.  Air-travel  is  no  novelty  to 
me.  It  is  many  years  since  I  made  my  first  flight.  I 
confess  I  have  never  found  any  frantic  thrill  in  flying.  I 
do  not  pretend  to  have  indulged  in  sensational  ''banking" 
(that  is  turning  sharply  so  that  the  machine  leans  over  in 
an  alarming  way)  or  in  spirals,  nose-end  dives,  and  other, 
aerial  g}^mnastics.  I  can  imagine  that  a  sudden  inten- 
tional drop  of  five  thousand  feet  such  as  many  of  our. 
young  airmen  are  accustomed  to  take  must  be  somewhat 
of  a  strain  on  the  nerves.  But  I  have  never  allowed  any 
of  my  young  pilot  friends  to  go  in  for  what  they  call 
''parlour-tricks"  when  I  have  been  a  passenger  with  them. 

There  are  only  two  moments  of  excitement  in  ordinary 
air-travel.  One  of  these  is  when  you  first  learn,  by  being, 
told,  that  the  machine  has  actually  left  the  ground.  The 
second  is  when  you  rapidly  approach  the  earth  in  your 
descent.  The  ground  seems  to  be  shooting  up  towards 
you.  It  appears  to  be  impossible  that  the  pilot  can  avoid 
bringing  his  machine  to  rest  without  a  smash.  You  brace 
yourself  for  the  shock.  You  wonder  whether  your  will 
makes  your  last  wishes  quite  clear.  .  .  .  Then  you  find 
yourself  in  a  twinkling  skimming  along  on  an  even  keel 
parallel  with  the  ground  below.  The  pilot  smiles.  He. 
knows  what  a  passenger's  sensations  are  the  first  time  an 
air  voyage  is  undertaken.  He  dips  again,  skims  again, 
once  more  puts  the  machine's  nose  down.  It  lightly 
touches  the  soil,  hops  once  or  twice,  then  runs  gently  for 
a  few  yards  and  comes  to  a  stop. 

That  is  how  one  feels  at  first.    After  a  journey  or  two^ 


98         LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

in  the  air  these  sensations  wear  off.  Unfortunately  the 
other  sensations  which  are  not  exciting  or  thrilHng,  but 
merely  uncomfortable,  persist,  however  often  one  may 
fly.  It  is  almost  always  cold  in  an  aeroplane.  It  is  al- 
ways noisy.  If  you  want  to  speak  to  the  pilot,  you  must 
bend  your  lips  to  his  ear  and  bellow.  Although  the  field 
of  vision  is  vast,  twenty  miles  each  way  even  when  the 
height  attained  is  no  more  than  moderate,  it  is  not  possi- 
ble to  see  anything  very  clearly.  I  recollect  seeing 
Chartres  Cathedral  once  when  I  was  in  the  air  not  far 
from  Versailles,  but  as  a  rule  objects  are  hard  to  distin- 
guish unless  one  is  a  trained  observer.  The  speed  at 
which  one  flies  has  a  confusing  effect.  Strangely  enough, 
the  sensation  of  vertigo  is  scarcely  felt  by  any  who  make 
ascents  by  aeroplane.  I  am  so  subject  to  giddiness  that 
I  do  not  like  looking  down  from  a  high  building.  But  I 
have  never  felt  giddy  in  the  air. 

Flying  in  a  battle-plane  is  not  essentially  different  from 
flying  in  a  machine  not  built  specially  for  war-work. 
The  battle-plane,  if  it  be  of  the  latest  type,  goes  up  more 
vertically  than  any  of  the  pre-war  touring  machines 
could.  It  needs  scarcely  any  run  on  the  ground.  It 
shoots  into  the  air  with  a  marvellous  energy  and  pre- 
cision. It  has  more  room  in  the  body  of  it  than  a  tour- 
ing aeroplane  needed.  The  number  of  instruments  car- 
ried is  larger.  There  is  perhaps  a  photographic  camera 
for  taking  pictures  of  enemy  trench  systems,  there  may 
be  hooks  for  bombs.  There  is  probably  a  gun  mounted 
in  the  forward  part  for  attack  and  defence.  As  we  fly 
over  trenches,  we  can  see  very  distinctly  the  dark  patterns 
of  the  first  line,  second  line,  third  line  against  the  lighter 
colour  of  the  soil.  Then  we  distinguish  the  communica- 
tion trenches.     Perhaps  there  may  be  tiny  dots  moving 


HOW  IT  FEELS  IN  A  SUBMARINE  99 

through  them.  If  this  were  enemy  territory,  now  would 
be  the  moment  to  loose  a  few  of  our  bombs. 

But  w^e  are  over  our  own  men  here.  They  look  up  and 
see  that  the  under-sides  of  our  wings  are  painted  with 
red,  white  and  blue  rings.  They  know  there  is  nothing 
to  fear.  The  aeroplane  is  the  only  engine  of  war  which 
does  not  practice  what  the  French  call  camouflage,  that  is 
to  say,  deception.  I  have  sometimes  been  asked  why,  in 
order  to  deceive  the  Allied  troops,  the  Germans  do  not 
paint  red,  white  and  blue  rings  on  their  machines  instead 
of  the  black  iron  cross  which  is  their  distinguishing  mark. 
The  reason  is  obvious,  if  you  think  for  an  instant.  They 
would  deceive  their  own  side.  The  aeroplanes  which  so 
disguised  themselves  would  be  shot  at  by  the  German 
anti-aircraft  guns.  There  could  be  no  possibility  of  let- 
ting their  gunners  know  that  they  were  disguised. 

The  pilot  who  is  driving  me  now  is  one  of  our  crack 
fliers.  He  has  many  German  machines  to  his  credit.  He 
thinks  no  risk  too  great  to  be  taken  if  there  is  a  good 
chance  of  ''bagging  a  Hun."  He  has  come  back  often 
with  his  wings  shot  through  over  and  over  again.  He 
has  been  w^ounded,  he  has  had  his  machine  disabled  under 
him  and  been  obliged  to  make  "a  rough  landing."  But 
nothing  disturbs  him.  He  pays  no  more  heed  to  the  little 
white  balls  of  smoke  which  denote  shrapnel  bursting  un- 
der or  round  about  him  than  we  should  pay  to  a  shower 
of  rain.  They  are  wonderful  young  men,  these  airmen. 
They  have  done  infinitely  valuable  work  in  scouting,  in 
directing  artillery  fire,  in  harassing  the  enemy  by  drop- 
ping bombs  upon  his  camps,  stores,  railways,  and  base 
establishments  generally.  It  is  soldiers  they  are  out  for, 
not  civilians.  They  have  proved  themselves  a  most  mag- 
nificent force.  The  Fifth  Arm  is  now  indispensable  in 
warfare.    It  has  enabled  gunnery  to  become  far  more  ac- 


100       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

curate  and  deadly  than  ever  before.  No  one  can  talk  of 
degeneration  while  so  dangerous  a  service  finds  a  per- 
petual stream  of  young  men  anxious  to  enter  it.  None 
have  deserved  better  of  their  country  than  the  Royal  Fly- 
ing Corps. 

^  3fC  «f*  ^  «|C 

Pleasantest  of  the  three  sensations  which  I  am  describ- 
ing in  this  chapter  is  undoubtedly  that  of  a  trip  in  a 
Submarine.  My  first  submarine  experience  was  a  very 
brief  one  many  years  ago  in  a  small  under-water  boat, 
propelled  entirely  by  electricity,  which  lay  in  the  Seine 
near  Paris.  We  paid  250  francs  ($50)  each,  I  remember, 
for  one  dive.  Beyond  that  I  do  not  recollect  anything 
particular  about  it,  except  my  apprehension  that  the  ma- 
chine would  not  rise  to  the  surface  again.  My  first  real 
submarine  experience  occurred  just  before  the  war.  A 
small  party  received  the  permission  rarely  accorded  to 
make  a  short  voyage  in  one  of  our  British  boats. 

The  world  hears  little  in  these  days  of  British  sub- 
marines or  submarine  officers  for  the  simple  reason  that 
there  are  no  targets  for  them  to  shoot  at.  The  German 
Fleet  lies  snugly  esconced  in  the  Kiel  Canal.  The  Ger- 
man mercantile  marine  is  interned  at  Bremen,  Ham- 
burg, Wilhelmshaven,  Altona.  Our  submarines  are 
therefore  reduced  to  doing  police  work,  watching  for  any 
German  war-vessel  that  may  emerge;  capturing  and 
bringing  into  port,  or  sinking  after  due  notice  has  been 
given,  any  enemy  trading  ship  which  may  attempt  to  run 
the  blockade.  Warning  is  always  given.  No  civilian 
death  has  been  caused  by  a  British  submarine. 

I  looked  forward  with  pleasurable  anticipation  to  my 
under-water  excursion,  and  my  hopes  were  realised  to 
the  fullest  extent.  The  entrance  to  submarines  of  the 
type  in  which  I  journeyed  is  down  a  long  vertical  man- 


HOW  IT  FEELS  IN  A  SUBMARINE        101 

hole,  the  top  of  which  is  hennetically  sealed  as  soon  as 
the  last  person  is  on  board.  (Other  methods  of  entering 
our  newest  submarines  I  will  not  describe.)  There  is 
felt,  when  the  lid  is  put  on,  just  that  momentary  nervous 
trepidation  which  precedes  taking  a  header  from  a  high 
diving  plank.  There  is  the  same  apprehension  of  being 
shut  in  as  a  child  feels  when  tlie  door  of  a  cupboard  is 
closed  upon  it.  I  can  imagine  there  are  some  people 
who  might  suffer  in  a  submarine  from  claustrophobia. 

We  had  no  time,  however,  to  indulge  in  nervous  ap- 
prehensions. The  lid  being  on,  the  boat  was  at  once  in 
motion,  and  we  speeded  along  on  the  surface  of  a  rough- 
ish  sea  at  a  pace  which  I  had  not  thought  j>ossible  for  this 
kind  of  craft.  A  mile  or  so  out  the  order  was  given  to 
submerge.  There  was  heard  a  mighty  rushing  of  water 
into  the  tanks  by  which  the  submersion  is  effected.  We 
went  down  with  a  rapidity  which  was  a  complete  sur- 
prise to  me,  and  in  a  few  moments  we  were  in  the  eternal 
silence  of  the  under-sea. 

Travelling  above,  or  "awash,"  as  sailors  call  it,  the 
submarine  was  propelled  by  its  oil  engines.  Under  the 
surface  it  is  run  by  its  electric  batteries  whose  smooth, 
sweet  rhythm  makes  progress  pleasant.  There  was  noth- 
ing to  counteract  this  pleasant  impression.  All  precon- 
ceived notions  of  a  suffocating  atmosphere  vanished  at 
once.  We  looked  about  us  in  complete  comfort.  What 
we  saw  was  a  very  complex  series  of  machines,  with  the 
familiar  internal  combustion  engine  of  the  ordinary 
motor  boat.  The  quarters  of  the  officers  and  crew  are 
Spartan  in  their  simplicity,  but  they  neither  suffer  dis- 
comfort, nor  have  they  any  apparent  cause  for  anxiety. 
I  should  imagine  that  in  peace-time,  when  there  is  no 
risk  of  being  harried  by  destroyers  and  chasers  or  of 
hitting  a  mine,  submarine  travelling  will  become  popular. 


102       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

Certainly,  on  the  roughish  day  on  which  I  made  my 
journey,  we  below  the  surface  knew  nothing  of  the 
waves,  and  it  was  only  when  we  fastened  our  eyes  to  the 
periscope  and  saw  what  was  going  on  above  that  we 
realised  we  were  progressing  at  a  very  considerable 
speed. 

The  periscope  is  in  effect  a  camera  ohscura,  with  a 
field  of  vision  like  that  of  the  apparatus  which  soldiers 
use  in  the  trenches  for  seeing  over  the  parapet  without 
being  seen.  There  is  always  some  eye  in  the  submarine 
taking  note  of  what  is  passing  on  the  surface.  They 
were  rather  a  serious  lot,  the  crew.  There  was  none  of 
the  cheery  humour  of  my  young  friends  in  the  Tanks. 
But  then  this  was  peace-time.  It  is  war  which  brings 
out  the  humour  of  the  Briton.  These  officers  and  blue- 
jackets were  just  doing  their  duty  in  the  ordinary  way, 
nothing  exciting  about  it,  steering  the  vessel,  watching 
the  pressure  gauges,  seeing  to  it  that  every  one  of  the 
minute  pieces  of  machinery  was  performing  its  function. 
They  took  their  under-water  trip  as  a  matter  of  course, 
an  every-day  experience.  Nobody  wore  a  worried  look. 
Ever}^body  was  at  home  in  their  cramped  quarters.  The 
two  outstanding  features  that  struck  me  were,  first,  the 
perfect  human  discipline,  and,  secondly,  the  silver-plate- 
like appearance  of  the  machinery. 

I  can  well  believe  that  after  one  or  two  under-water 
voyages  the  sense  of  novelty  would  entirely  wear  off. 
One  supposes  that  it  must  be  an  eerie  sensation  to  travel 
beneath  the  surface  of  the  sea,  but  this  is  imaginary 
rather  than  actual.  I  doubt  whether  a  person  put  on 
board  a  submersible  ship  in  a  state  of  trance  and  awak- 
ened when  the  vessel  had  dived,  would  know  whether  it 
was  under  water  or  not.  During  our  considerable  ex- 
cursion we  felt  no  lack  of  air,  no  discomfort  in  breath- 


HOW  IT  FEELS  IN  A  SUBMARINE        lOS 

ing  at  all.  There  are,  of  course,  means  of  supplying 
oxygen,  if  it  should  be  needed.  I  was  told  that  after 
twelve  hours  or  so  the  air  begins  to  become  exhausted 
and  those  on  board  are  affected  by  drowsiness.  I  felt 
nothing  of  any  such  sensation.  We  all  had  the  satis- 
factory feeling  that,  while  people  in  boats  on  the  surface 
were  being  made  uncomfortable  by  the  rough  sea,  we 
below  were  travelling  perfectly  at  our  ease,  seeing  all 
we  wanted  to  see  and  being  ourselves  unseen. 

At  the  end  of  the  trip  all  were  sorry  when  the  signal 
was  given  to  eject  the  w^ater  from  our  tanks,  so  that  the 
boat  should  rise.  In  almost  less  time  than  it  takes  to 
write  these  words,  we  were  on  the  top  again,  being 
rocked  about  like  an  ordinary  boat.  Most  of  us  agreed 
we  would  much  sooner  travel  imder  water.  Submarin- 
ing is,  indeed,  altogether  delightful.  My  first  experience 
left  as  vivid  a  mark  on  my  memory  as  that  of  the  first 
drive  I  ever  took  in  a  powerful  automobile. 


THE  ARMY  BEHIND  THE  ARMY 


THE  ARMY  BEHIND  THE  ARMY 

EFFICIENCY   AND    YOUTH 

Somewhere  in  France, 
Take  this  powerful  pair  of  field-glasses  in  your  hand. 
They  were  captured  yesterday  in  a  German  dug-out  and 
bear  the  famous  mark  of  Zeiss,  of  Jena.  Adjust  them 
carefully  and  look  well  over  to  where  dark  clouds  of 
shells  are  bursting  so  rapidly  that  they  form  what  looks 
like  a  dense  mass  of  London  fog,  with  continuous  brief 
and  vivid  flashes  of  explosions.  That  is  Pozieres.  That 
is  how  Fricourt  looked  and  how  Longueval  is  looking  on 
the  day  this  is  penned.  From  behind  where  we  are 
ensconced  in  an  old  German  trench  there  come  night  and 
day  the  bang  and  the  far-travelling  scream  of  British 
shells.  It  does  not  seem  possible  that  any  one  can  emerge 
alive  from  those  bombarded  villages. 

From  north  to  south  is  an  irregular  chain  of  watch- 
ful observation  balloons.  High  and  glittering  in  the 
sunshine  are  planes,  directed  as  often  as  not  by  boys 
who  in  happier  times  would  be  in  the  boats  or  the  play- 
ing fields.  Their  heroism  during  the  Somme  battles 
has  never  been  equalled,  except  in  this  war. 

The  battles  of  the  Somme  are  not,  of  course,  so  easily 
witnessed  as  those  which  can  be  seen  from  the  heights 
around  Verdun,  but  they  are  a  great  deal  more  visible 
and  tmderstandable  than  the  depressing  artillery  duels 
in  the  plains  and  swamps  of  Flanders.     Neither  photo- 

107 


108       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

graphs  nor  maps  give  much  real  impression  of  the  great 
panorama,  which  is,  indeed,  only  possible  for  an  on- 
looker to  understand  when  accompanied  by  one  who  has 
witnessed  the  steady  conquest  of  the  German  trenches 
from  the  beginning  of  the  movement  made  on  July  i 
(1916).  What  is  easy  to  realise,  and  so  cheering  to 
our  soldiers,  is  that  we  give  the  Germans  full  measure 
and  more  in  the  matter  of  guns  and  shells.  A  couple  of 
hours  in  any  place  where  the  battles  can  be  properly  ob- 
served is  enough  for  the  nerves  of  the  average  civilian, 
for  to  see  battles  properly  one  must  be  well  in  reach  of 
the  enemy,  and  so  when  we  have  had  our  fill  we  make 
our  way  along  a  communication  trench  to  where  a  small 
and  unobtrusive  motor  has  been  hidden. 

Presently  we  come  to  the  roads  where  we  see  one 
of  the  triumphs  of  the  war,  the  transport  which  brings 
the  ammunition  for  the  guns  and  the  food  for  the  men, 
a  transport  which  has  had  to  meet  all  kinds  of  unex- 
pected difficulties.  The  last  is  water,  for  our  troops  are 
approaching  a  part  of  France  which  is  as  chalky  and  dry 
as  our  South  Downs, 

Communication  being  as  urgent  as  transport,  the 
Royal  Engineers  have  seen  to  it  that  the  large  area  of 
Northern  and  North- West  France  in  which  our  Armies 
are  operating  has  been  linked  up  by  a  telephonic  system 
unique.  It  is  no  mere  collection  of  temporary  wires 
strung  from  tree  to  tree.  The  poles  and  wires  are  in 
every  way  as  good  as  those  of  the  Post  Office  at  home. 
The  installation  might  indeed  be  thought  to  be  extrava- 
gant, but  cheap  telephoning  is  notoriously  bad  telephon- 
ing. A  breakdown  of  communications  which  might  be 
caused  by  the  fierce  wind  and  electric  storms  which  have 
happened  so  frequently  in  the  war  would  spell  a  great 
inconvenience  or  even  worse.     An  indistinct  telephone  is 


THE  ARMY  BEHIND  THE  ARMY  109 

useless.  And  so,  marching  with  the  Army,  and  linking 
up  a  thousand  essential  points,  is  a  telephone  service  that 
cannot  be  bettered.  To-day  it  would  be  quite  possible 
for  the  Commander-in-Chief,  if  he  so  desired,  to  call  up 
London  from  beyond  Fricourt,  for  our  wires  are  already 
in  places  where  we  saw  them  burying  the  blackened 
corpses  of  dead  Germans,  and  where  the  sound  of  great 
guns  makes  it  sometimes  necessary  to  shout  in  order  to 
make  ourselves  heard  in  a  conversation. 

Every  officer  or  head  of  department  of  importance 
in  the  British  zone  has  a  telephone  at  his  hand,  so  that 
he  may  give  and  receive  orders,  not  absolutely  secret, 
by  the  quickest  and  most  popular  means  of  communica- 
tion. Where  necessary,  the  English  telephones  are  linked 
up  with  the  trunk  lines  of  the  French  Government,  for 
w^hich  purposes  interpreters  are  placed  in  the  exchanges. 
The  speed  of  communication  is  remarkable.  It  varies,  of 
course,  with  the  amount  of  business,  but  I  have  seen  a 
man  call  up  Paris,  London,  and  the  seaport  bases  in 
France  all  within  an  hour.  Supplementing  the  tele- 
phonic system  is  a  telegraphic  link,  and  there  is  also  the 
wireless.  The  Army  Signal  Corps  is  to  be  congratulated 
on  a  fine  achievement.  Over  and  above  these  there  are 
the  motor  despatch  riders,  some  of  whose  experiences 
during  the  war  have  been  as  thrilling  as  those  of  our  air 
boys.  The  noisy  nuisance  of  our  peace-time  roads  at 
home  has  been  a  prime  factor  in  the  prompt  waging  of 
war.  Motor-cycles  and  portable  telephones  appear  in 
the  most  out-of-the-way  spots.  Far  beyond  Fricourt  I 
met  these  cyclists  making  their  way  in  and  out  and 
around  the  shell  holes. 

A  few  days  later,  when  visiting  one  of  the  workshops 
at  the  base,  I  saw  the  wrecks  of  similar  machines  twisted 
and  smashed  out  of  all  recognition  by  shrapnel,  each 


110       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

speaking  of  an  adventure,  and  perhaps  a  tragedy.  The 
fact  that  these  derehcts  were  being  examined  for  possi- 
ble repair  is  a  portent  of  the  rigid  economy  with  which, 
on  the  French  side  of  the  Channel  at  any  rate,  and  per- 
haps on  both,  the  war  is  now  being  conducted. 

I  am  not,  of  course,  permitted  to  give  names  of  places, 
or  numbers,  or  the  names  of  the  heads  of  departments, 
but  I  shall  be  allowed  to  state  that  the  always  growing 
immensity  of  the  Armies,  and  the  workshops  behind  the 
Army,  is  little  understood  at  home,  or  even  by  those  w^ho 
have  made  frequent  visits  to  the  war  zone. 

What  is  required,  it  seems  to  me,  to  bring  home  to  the 
people  of  the  Empire,  who  are  so  lavishly  outpouring 
their  blood  and  treasure,  and  also  to  the  Allies  and  neu- 
trals, is  a  continuous  demonstration  by  skilled  writers, 
artists,  lecturers,  kinematograph  operators,  and  photog- 
raphers. Now  that  we  have  real  war  news  from  the  able 
scribes  who  are  allowed  to  tell  us  freely  and  frankly 
what  is  happening,  readers  with  imagination  are  awak- 
ening to  the  truth  that  we  have  a  whole  South  African 
campaign  and  a  complete  Crimea  every  month.  But  of 
the  war  behind  the  war,  the  battles  behind  the  battles, 
employing  skilled  workers  considerabty  exceeding  the 
number  of  the  total  original  British  Expeditionary  Force, 
we  have  but  faint  glimmerings.  You  can  understand 
the  need  of  this  vast  establishment  if  you  realise  that 
every  part  of  an  instrument  of  war  has  to  be  accom- 
panied to  France  by  its  own  attendants,  its  own  supplies, 
and  its  own  transport. 

The  newest  plane  flies  upwards  and  away  with  the 
speed  and  grace  of  a  dragon-fly.  She  has  been  made 
perfect  and  beautiful  for  her  flight  by  skilled  expert 
mechanics.  When  she  returns  after,  let  us  hope,  her 
conquest,  the  boys  who  have  escorted  her  in  the  air  .(one 


THE  ARMY  BEHIND  THE  ARMY    UK 

of  these  I  met  was  at  school  last  year)  hand  her  over 
again  to  those  attendants  to  see  if  she  has  any  rent  in 
her  gown  or  other  mishap  which  may  be  speedily 
mended.  When,  therefore,  you  see  an  aeroplane  you 
must  realise  that  each  machine  has  its  staff.  Speed  and 
efficiency  being  prime  essentials  of  victory,  her  care- 
takers must  be  skilled  and  young.  As  for  her  supplies 
there  must  be  at  hand  a  great  quantity  of  spare  parts 
ready  to  be  applied  instantaneously,  and  there  must  be 
men,  in  case  of  need,  who  can  either  alter  or  even  make 
such  parts.  There  must  be  those  who  understand  her 
camera  and  its  repair,  her  wireless  and  its  working,  men 
who  have  already  learnt  the  mysteries  of  the  newest 
bombs,  rockets,  and  machine-guns.  I  take  the  aeroplane 
as  an  instance  because  of  its  prominence  in  the  public 
eye. 

What  applies  to  an  aeroplane  applies  in  other  degrees 
to  every  kind  of  gun,  to  every  form  of  motor  or  horse 
transport,  ambulances,  field  kitchens,  filters,  and  to  a 
thousand  articles  which  at  first  sight  do  not  necessarily 
seem  to  be  part  of  war-making. 

The  Army  behind  the  Army  is  full  of  originality.  It 
has  already  improved,  on  the  spot,  much  machinery 
which  we  had  thought  to  have  attained  perfection.  This 
is  a  war  of  machinery  as  well  as  of  bravery,  and  among 
Germany's  many  blunders  was  her  forgetfulness  of  the 
British  power  of  quick  improvisation  and  organisation 
in  unexpected  circumstances,  which  is  a  secret  of  our 
success  in  building  up  the  Empire  in  strange  lands. 

The  Army  behind  the  Army  is  being  squeezed  for  men 
for  the  front.  In  some  places  it  can  legitimately  bear 
more  squeezing,  and  it  is  getting  it.  On  the  other  hand, 
owing  to  their  own  burning  desire  or  to  the  pressure  of 
the  authorities  men  who,  in  the  end,  would  have  killed 


112       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

more  Germans  by  the  use  of  their  own  particular  skill 
in  the  workshop  have  left  the  anvil,  the  tools,  the  lathe, 
or  the  foundry  for  the  firing  line. 

Our  L.  of  C.  in  France  (Lines  of  Communication) 
has  developed  to  what  must  be  one  of  the  largest  organ- 
isations in  the  world.  It  represents  6  per  cent,  of  the 
whole  of  our  forces  in  France.  It  has  to  deal  with  more 
spheres  of  human  industry  than  I  should  be  allowed  to 
mention.  Its  personnel,  let  me  repeat,  is  being  revised 
continually  by  medical  examinations  that  eliminate  fit 
men  for  the  trenches.  The  task  is  a  delicate  one.  An 
organisation  absolutely  essential  to  victory  has  at  length, 
and  after  infinite  labour,  by  promotion  of  the  skilled  and 
rejection  of  the  incompetent,  been  set  on  its  feet.  We 
must  make  changes  with  caution. 

At  various  times  I  have  observed  personally  the  great 
organisations   of   the   Clyde,   the  Tyne,   of   Belfast,   of 
Woolwich,  Qiicago,  in  and  about  Paris,  at  St.  Etienne, 
at  the  Creusot  works,   in  Hamburg,   in  Essen,  and  at 
Hoechst  on  the  Rhine,  and  I  say  without  hesitation  that 
making  allowances  for  war  time,  our  lines  of  communi 
cation  organisation,  superimposed  as  it  is  upon  the  over 
worked  French   railways  and  roads  and  in  a  countn 
where  there  is  no  native  labour  to  be  had,  is  as  near  per 
fection  as  ever  it  can  be. 

And  I  say  more  that,  difficult  as  economy  and  war  ar 
to  mate,  I  have  on  the  occasion  of  this  visit  and  in  con 
trast  to  the  days  of  19 14  seen  nothing  wasted.  In  th 
early  months  of  the  war  there  was  waste  at  home  ani 
abroad  arising  from  lack  of  control  of  our  national  habi 
of  spending  money  with  both  hands.  I  rem.ember 
certain  French  village  I  visited  where  every  tiny  mit 
was  filling  its  mouth  with  English  bread  and  jam.  Tc 
day  there  is  enough  food  and  a  greater  variety  of  foo 


THE  ARMY  BEHIND  THE  ARMY    11^ 

than  ever  before,  but  there  is  no  waste  that  is  visible- 
even  to  an  inquisitive  critic. 

Coming  to  the  front,  not  only  in  the  high  commands 
and  among  regimental  officers  but  along  the  L.  of  C, 
is  a  pleasing  proportion  of  Scotch  folk  who,  while  gen- 
erous in  the  giving  of  ambulances,  are  not  accustomed 
to  waste  anything  in  war  or  at  any  other  time.  To-day, 
almost  before  the  reek  and  fume  of  battle  are  over,  al- 
most before  our  own  and  the  enemy  dead  are  all  buried, 
the  Salvage  Corps  appears  on  the  bloody  and  shell-- 
churned  scene  to  collect  and  pile  unused  cartridge  and 
machine-gun  belts,  unexploded  bombs,  old  shell  cases, 
damaged  rifles,  haversacks,  steel  helmets,  and  even  old 
rags,  which  go  to  the  base,  and  are  sold  at  £50  a  ton.  It 
is  only  old  bottles,  which  with  old  newspapers,  letters, 
meat  tins,  and  broken  boxes  are  a  feature  of  the  battle- 
fields, that  do  not  appear  to  be  worthy  of  salvage. 

Regarding  the  utilisation  of  waste  products  there  is 
as  much  ingenuity  and  industry  along  the  Lines  of  Com- 
munication as  would  satisfy  the  directorate  of  the  most 
highly  over-organised  German  fabrik.  At  more  than 
one  place  I  saw  over  1,000  French  and  Belgian  girls 
cleansing  and  re'pairing  clothing  that  had  come  back 
from  the  front.  They  work  and  talk  and  sing  with  alac- 
rity, and  I  witnessed  the  process  of  the  patching  and  re- 
constructing of  what  looked  like  an  impossible  waterproof 
coat,  all  in  the  course  of  a  few  moments.  Such  labour 
saves  the  British  nation  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
pounds,  and  is  considered  well  rewarded  at  a  wage  of 
half-a-crown  a  day. 

Elsewhere  I  saw  men  using  the  m.ost  modern  North- 
ampton machinery  for  soling  and  heeling  any  pair  of  old 
boots  that  would  stand  the  operation,  and  such  footgear 
as  was  useless  was  not  wasted,  for  by  an  ingenious  con-- 


114       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

trivance  invented  on  the  spot  by  a  young  Dublin  boot- 
maker the  upper  parts  of  these  boots  were  being  con- 
verted into  bootlaces  by  the  thousand. 

In  the  Army  machine  shops  the  waste  grease  is  saved 
and  the  oil  which  escapes  from  every  such  establishment 
is  ingeniously  trapped  and  sold  to  local  soapmakers  at 
the  equivalent  of  its  present  very  high  value. 

Since  the  early  days  of  chaos  and  muddle  we  have 
conveyed  across  the  seas  machine  shops  and  mechanics 
which  must  exceed  by  twice  or  thrice  the  total  of  those 
in  a  humming  town  like  Coventry.  Such  factories  have 
had  to  be  manned,  and  manned  with  labour  able  to  meet 
the  sudden  emergencies  of  war.  The  labour  has  all  had 
to  come  from  home.  Clerks,  engineers,  fitters,  mechan- 
ics, quickly  settled  down  to  the  monotonous  regularity 
of  military  life  and  the  communal  existence  of  the  bar- 
racks, huts,  and  tents  in  which  they  live.  True  it  is  that 
every  consideration  possible  has  been  shown  for  their 
happiness,  comfort,  and  amusement.  They  have  their 
own  excellent  canteens,  reading  rooms,  and  places  of  en- 
tertainment. They  are  not  forgotten  by  the  Y.M.C.A. 
or  by  the  Salvation  Army  and  Church  Army,  whose 
work  cannot  be  too  highly  spoken  of.  They  are  indi- 
vidually looked  after  by  their  own  heads  of  departments 
with  solicitude  and  kindness.  The  gramophone,  the  joy 
of  the  dug-outs,  the  hospitals,  and  the  billets,  is  a  never- 
ending  source  of  entertainment. 

The  workers  are  by  no  means  unable  to  amuse  them- 
selves. They  are  well  provided  with  kinematographs 
and  frequent  boxing  tournaments.  Gardening,  too,  is 
one  of  their  hobbies,  and  from  the  casualty  clearing  sta- 
tions at  the  front  to  the  workers'  huts  at  the  bases  are 
to  be  counted  thousands  of  English-made  gardens.  The 
French,  who  know  as  little  of  us  as  we  do  of  them,  were 


THE  ARMY  BEHIND  THE  ARMY         115 

not  a  little  surprised  to  find  that  wherever  he  sojourns 
the  British  workman  insists  on  making  himself  a  gar- 
den. At  a  great  veterinary  hospital  at  one  of  the  bases 
the  men  living  a  considerable  distance  from  a  town  and 
away  from  other  pastimes  have  planted  for  themselves 
gardens  that  would  be  a  credit  to  any  prosperous  Lon- 
don suburb  in  peace  time. 

The  energy,  enterprise,  and  spirit  of  the  base  com- 
mandants and  hundreds  of  other  officers  along  the  lines 
of  communications,  their  tact  in  their  relations  with  our 
French  friends,  and  their  capacity  for  overcoming  ob- 
stacles have  response  in  the  enthusiasm  of  their  workers. 

Huge  bakeries,  the  gigantic  storehouses  (one  is  the 
largest  in  the  world),  factories  and  repair  shops  are 
filled  with  workers  who  are  a  visible  contradiction  of  the 
allegations  as  to  the  alleged  slackness  of  the  British 
workman.  The  jealousy  that  exists  in  peace  time  be- 
tween most  Army  and  civilian  establishments  does  not 
seem  to  be  known.  Great  soldiers  introduced  me  with 
pride  to  young  men  who  had  no  idea  two  years  ago  that 
they  would  enter  upon  a  quasi-military  life  but  have 
adapted  themselves  with  wonderful  facility  to  entirely 
changed  conditions.  Many  have  brought  w^ith  them  in- 
valuable knowledge  gained  in  the  management  of  great 
businesses  at  home  and  elsewhere. 

It  is  true,  of  course,  that  the  workmen  in  our  great 
French  factories  understand  the  war  better  than  their 
brothers  at  home.  They  are  nearer  to  the  war.  They 
live  in  the  country  invaded  by  the  Hun.  They  see  their 
French  fellow-workmen  keyed  up  to  the  highest  pitch  in 
the  intense  desire  to  rid  fair  France  of  her  despoiler. 
Daily  they  see  reinforcements  going  to  the  front  and  the 
wounded  returning  home.  There  is  a  war  atmosphere 
even  in  towns  like  Havre  and  Rouen.     The  war  is  al- 


116       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

ways  present.  One  day  I  saw  a  great  number  of  cap- 
tured German  cannons  and  other  booty  of  which  we 
hear  and  see  so  little  at  home  coming  down  from  the 
front. 

The  authorities  in  England  seem  to  hide  our  German 
prisoners.  In  France  they  work,  and  in  public,  and  are 
content  with  their  lot,  as  I  know  by  personal  enquiry  of 
many  of  them.  Save  for  the  letters  "P.G."  (prisonnier 
de  guerre)  at  the  back  of  their  coats  it  would  be  difficult 
to  realise  that  comfortable-looking,  middle-aged  Land- 
sturm  Hans,  with  his  long  pipe,  and  young  Fritz,  with 
his  cigarette,  were  prisoners  at  all.  If  it  be  true  that 
there  is  congestion  in  the  docks  at  home  caused  by  lack 
of  labour,  the  sooner  German  prisoners  are  put  to  work 
and  help  to  shorten  the  war  the  better. 

The  war  atmosphere  and  the  patriotic  keenness  of  the 
skilled  mechanics  and  labour  battalions  in  France  have 
enabled  the  Commander-in-Chief,  Sir  Douglas  Haig, 
who  has  personally  visited  the  bases  in  hurried  journeys 
from  the  front,  to  accomplish  what  in  peace  time  would 
be  the  impossible.  Transport  alone  is  a  miracle.  The 
railways  are  so  encumbered  that  it  is  frequent  to  see 
trains  nearly  a  kilometre  (five-eighths  of  a  mile)  in 
length.  As  one  travels  about  in  search  of  information 
mile-long  convoys  of  motor  lorries  laden  with  shells  or 
food  loom  quickly  towards  one  from  out  of  the  dense 
dust,  and  it  is  by  this  combination  of  rail  and  road  that 
the  almost  impossible  task  has  been  achieved  of  keeping 
pace  with  the  German  strategic  railways,  which  were 
built  for  the  sole  purpose  of  the  quick  expedition  of  men 
and  supplies. 

I  do  not  know  how  many  types  of  motor  vehicles  are 
being  used  in  France,  but  I  counted  more  than  two  score. 
Each  of  these  requires  its  own  spare  parts  in  order  that 


THE  ARMY  BEHIND  THE  ARMY         IIT 

repairs  can  be  speedily  effected,  and  it  must  always  be 
borne  in  mind  that  delay  in  war  time  is  fatal.  There  are 
in  use  no  fewer  than  50,000  different  kinds  of  spare 
parts,  including  nuts,  bolts,  rivets,  and  screws.  By 
proper  co-operation  between  the  various  manufacturers 
these  could  be  reduced  to  a  minimum. 

In  order  to  help  economy  all  spare  parts  are  supplied 
when  possible  from  the  salvage  of  machines  of  the  same 
type.  All  this  debris  has  to  be  carefully  collected,  re- 
paired and  arranged  in  depots  in  such  a  manner  that 
missing  parts  can  be  found  Instantly.  The  Germans 
use,  comparatively,  few  types  of  motor  vehicles  and 
have,  therefore,  an  advantage  over  us. 

As  one  of  the  pioneers  of  automobilisation  I  should 
like  to  offer  my  tribute  to  all  sections  of  the  motor  trans- 
port department  in  France,  and  especially  to  the  eco- 
nomic manner  in  which  waste  has  been  eliminated. 

Scattered  among  the  Army  behind  the  Army  are 
schools  w^here  war  is  taught  by  officers  who  have  stud- 
ied the  art  at  the  front.  Here  in  vast  camps  the  specta- 
tor might  easily  imagine  that  he  was  at  the  front  itself. 
Here  the  pupils  fresh  from  England  or  from  the  United 
States  are  drilled  in  every  form  of  fighting. 

There  is  something  uncanny  in  the  approach  of  a 
company  to  a  communication  trench,  in  its  vanishing 
under  the  earth,  and  its  reappearance  some  hundreds  of 
yards  away,  where  clambering  ''over  the  top,"  to  use 
the  most  poignant  expression  of  the  war,  the  soldier  pu- 
pils dash  forward  in  a  vociferous  bayonet  charge.  At 
these  great  reinforcement  camps  are  gas  mask  attacks, 
Avhere  pupils  are  passed  through  underground  chambers, 
filled  with  real  gas,  that  they  may  become  familiarized 
with  one  of  the  worst  curses  of  warfare.  The  gas  itself 
is  a  subtle  and  at  first  not  a  very  fearsome  enemy,  but 


118       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

the  victim  is  apt  to  be  overcome  before  he  is  aware  of  it. 

And  at  these  miniature  battlefields,  all  of  them  larger 
than  the  field  of  Waterloo,  are  demonstration  lecturers 
who  teach  bombing,  first  with  toy  bombs  that  explode 
harmlessly  with  a  slight  puff,  and  then  with  the  real 
Mills  bombs  which  have  a  noisy  and  destructive  effect 
altogether  disproportionate  to  their  size  and  innocent 
appearance.  The  various  types  of  machine-guns  are 
fired  at  ingenious  targets  all  the  day  long.  There  are 
actual  dug-outs  in  which  pupils  are  interned  with  en- 
trances closed  while  gas  is  profusely  projected  around 
them  so  that  they  may  learn  how  to  deal  with  the  new 
weapon  by  spraying  it  and  flapping  it  away  when  the 
entrance  is  uncovered  at  a  given  signal.  Crater  fighting 
is  taught  with  an  actual  reproduction  of  a  crater,  by  a 
lusty  sergeant  who  has  seen  much  of  the  actual  thing, 
and  tells  the  men  what  to  do  with  their  bombs  and  with 
Germans.  Such  schools  are  known  to  exist  throughout 
Germany,  but  no  Prussian  thoroughness  can  better  these 
British  war-training  schools  in  France.  For  those  who 
are  not  so  quick  in  intelligence  as  others  there  is  a  re- 
vival of  the  old  awkward  squad  who  are  taught  slowly 
and  patiently  with  remarkable  results. 

In  the  centre  of  one  of  these  schools  there  arrived, 
while  I  was  on  the  scene,  a  great  number  of  German  pris- 
oners on  their  w^ay  to  the  Base.  I  do  not  know  how 
many  young  soldiers  just  landed  from  England  were 
being  trained  that  day.  Certainly  many,  many  thou- 
sands, and  I  do  not  wonder  that  the  prisoners  were 
amazed  at  the  spectacle  before  them.  One  of  them 
frankly  confessed  in  excellent  English  that  his  comrades 
were  under  the  impression  that  we  had  no  men  left. 

The  food  supplied  to  these  German  prisoners  here,  as 
everywhere,  was  excellent  and  they  did  not  hesitate  to 


THE  ARMY  BEHIND  THE  ARMY         119 

say  so.  Temporary  baths  and  other  washing  arrange- 
ments were  fitted  up  for  them,  they  had  an  abundance 
of  tobacco,  and  were  just  as  comfortably  off  in  their 
tents  as  our  soldiers  not  actually  in  barracks.  Their 
condition  on  arrival  here,  as  elsewhere,  was  appalling. 
Imprisoned  in  their  trenches  by  our  barrage  of  fire,  they 
had  been  deprived  of  many  of  the  necessities  of  life  for 
days,  and  on  their  arrival  ate  ravenously.  Most  of  them 
were  Prussian  Guards  and  Bavarians,  and  the  number 
who  had  the  Iron  Cross  ribbon  in  their  button-holes  was 
eloquent  testimony  to  the  type  of  enemy  troops  our 
New  Armies  have  been  fighting. 

If  there  be  loss  of  time  and  energy  in  the  Army  behind 
the  Army  it  may  be  found  in  one  of  two  of  the  clerical 
establishments,  which  might  be  carefully  modernised. 
In  some  of  these  departments  it  is  said  that  men  of  mili- 
tary age  are  still  engaged.  If  this  be  so,  there  is  still 
a  certain  supply  of  superfluous  middle-aged  clerical  la- 
bour at  home  that  might  be  gradually  introduced. 

There  is  beyond  question  a  growing  demand  for  the 
filling  up  of  more  and  more  forms  in  connexion  with  the 
Army.  It  is  a  disease  which  should  be  checked  now 
before  it  becomes  a  hindrance  to  efficient  working.  In 
some  of  the  clerical  departments  the  use  of  modern  files 
and  indexes  does  not  seem  to  be  general,  but  this  does 
not  apply  to  all  departments,  for  I  saw  many  that  were 
quite  up-to-date. 

In  one  great  branch  is  kept  a  complete  record  of  every 
British  soldier,  from  the  hour  of  his  arrival  in  France 
to  his  departure,  or  death.  Think  of  the  countless  es- 
sential letters,  and  forms  that  must  necessarily  be  filled 
up,  to  achieve  that  end  efficiently  and  with  accuracy. 

Another  department,  which  exists  for  the  satisfaction 
of  relatives,  and  possible  decisions  in  the  Court  of  Pro- 


120       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

bate,  keeps  an  exact  record  of  the  time  of  death  and 
place  of  burial  of  every  officer  and  private  soldier  in 
France,  whether  he  comes  from  the  British  Islands  or 
the  Dominions.  Such  establishments  necessarily  de- 
mand the  use  of  much  clerical  labour. 

It  should  be  remembered  always,  in  regard  to  such  a 
department  as  that  which  follows  the  course  of  every 
soldier  in  France,  that  Tommy  is  a  difficult  person  to 
deal  with.  It  is  more  than  possible  that  there  is  a  con- 
siderable number  of  men  who  have  been  reported  as 
missing  or  dead  who  are  not  missing  or  dead  at  all. 
One  case  was  discovered  whilst  I  was  at  a  certain  office. 
It  was  that  of  a  soldier  who  had  been  reported  missing 
for  more  than  a  year  but  who  was  found  in  comfortable 
surroundings  doing  duty  as  an  Army  cook  in  a  totally 
different  part  of  the  field  from  that  in  which  he  disap- 
peared. 

There  are  countless  departments  of  which  the  public 
knows  nothing.  I  have  only  space  and  time  to  deal  with 
one  more.  It  is  that  which  watches  over  the  recovery 
of  the  effects  of  dead  men  and  officers.  There  are  sep- 
arate departments  for  each,  but  I  only  saw  that  affecting 
the  men. 

The  work  begins  on  the  battlefield  and  in  the  hospitals, 
where  I  saw  the  dead  bodies  being  reverently  searched. 
A  list  is  carefully  made  there  and  then,  and  that  list  ac- 
companies the  little  familiar  belongings  which  are  a  part 
of  every  man's  life  to  one  of  the  great  bases  on  the  lines 
of  communication.  The  bag  is  there  opened  by  two 
clerks,  who  check  it  once  more,  securely  fastening  it,  and 
sending  it  home,  where  it  eventually  reaches  the  next-of- 
kin.  I  watched  the  opening  of  one  such  pathetic  parcel 
during  the  final  checking.  It  contained  a  few  pence,  a 
pipe,  a  photo  of  wife  and  bairn,  a  trench  ring  made  of 


THE  ARMY  BEHIND  THE  ARMY         121 

the  aluminum  of  an  enemy  fuze,  a  small  diary,  and  a 
pouch.     It  was  all  the  man  had. 

They  told  me  that  nearly  every  soldier  carries  a  sou- 
venir. In  one  haversack  was  found  a  huge  piece  of 
German  shell  which  had  probably  been  carried  for 
months.  The  relatives  at  home  set  great  store  on  these 
treasures,  and  though  the  proper  officials  to  address  are 
those  at  the  War  Office,  London,  the  people  in  France 
are  often  in  receipt  of  indignant  letters  from  relatives 
asking  why  this  or  that  trifle  has  not  been  returned. 

One  of  them  which  arrived  that  day  said,  *T  gave 
my  son  to  the  war,  you  have  had  him,  you  might  at  least 
return  all  his  property  intact.  Where  ^are  the  pair  of 
gloves  and  zinc  ointment  he  had  with  him?" 

The  work  of  collecting  these  last  mementos  of  the 
dead  is  carried  out  with  promptness,  care,  and  very 
kindly  feeling,  despite  the  monotony  of  the  task,  which 
begins  in  the  morning  and  goes  on  to  the  evening,  a  task 
which  is  increasing  daily  with  the  size  of  the  war. 


THE  WOMEN  ARE  SPLENDID 


THE  WOMEN  ARE  SPLENDID  ^ 

Woman's  part  in  the  war ;  not  the  tender  nursing  part 
— that  was  expected  by  all — but  the  great  share  she  is 
taking  in  what  was  once  man's  work  is  one  of  the  great 
surprises. 

There  is  just  a  note  of  wounded  vanity  in  the  confes- 
sions of  thousands  of  men  who  have  to  admit  to-day 
that,  unknown  to  themselves,  they  have  been  performing 
tasks  which  are  now  proved  to  have  been  women's  work. 
Across  the  Channel,  in  France,  women  have  always  suc- 
cessfully managed  large  businesses.  There  is  a  large 
number  of  cases  in  point:  Mme.  Pommery,  whose 
champagne  sparkles  around  the  world;  Mme.  Duval, 
who  organized  the  popular  restaurants  that  were  the 
forerunners  of  so  many  in  London ;  Mme.  Paquin,  who 
succeeded  her  husband  in  the  great  modiste  business; 
Mme.  Curie,  who  discovered  radium.  Women  play  a 
prominent  part  in  French  politics,  French  business, 
French  science,  French  agriculture,  and  in  French  af- 
fairs generally. 

Throughout  the  English-speaking  world  we  have  al- 
ways prided  ourselves  on  sheltering  our  womenkind. 
We  have  not,  for  example,  cared  to  see  them  working 
in  the  fields  and  at  the  heavier  forms  of  manual  labour. 
There  has  been  a  great  deal  of  self-deception  about  it, 
because,  after  all,  women  have  performed  heavy  tasks 
in  factories  for  a  century  or  more.     And  we  must  not 

^This  article  was  among  the  first  to  call  attention  to  the  great 
part  played  by  women  in  the  effective  waging  of  war. 

125 


126       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

forget  our  old  friends,  the  chainmakers  of  Cradley 
Heath. 

Again,  from  the  days  of  Florence  Nightingale  the  no- 
ble work  of  nursing  our  sick  and  carrying  on  the  service 
of  our  hospitals  has  been  to  an  increasing  extent  in  the 
hands  of  women.  In  no  field  have  they  displayed  a 
higher  competence,  a  more  sublime  devotion;  and  few 
indeed  are  they  who  have  not  at  some  time  or  other  in 
their  lives  incurred  a  tremendous  debt  to  the  British  hos- 
pital nurse.  Again,  here  and  there  before  the  war, 
gifted  women,  such  as  Elizabeth  Fry  and  Octavia  Hill, 
showed  the  way  in  social  reform  among  us,  and  lately 
women  have  shone  in  journalism  and  in  municipal  work. 

Yet,  despite  these  very  striking  exceptions,  the  war 
has  already  proved  that  woman  had  not  hitherto  been 
given  her  opportimity  in  most  parts  of  the  Empire.  For 
some  years  her  cause  was  obscured  by  the  hysteria  of  the 
Suffragettes.  To-day  it  begins  to  look  as  though  the 
votes-for-women  demonstrations  were  but  manifesta- 
tions of  her  tremendous  pent-up  energy. 

Women  have  taken  to  every  kind  of  war  work  with 
a  rapidity  and  adaptability  that  have  certainly  not  been 
shown  by  all  the  ruling  sex.  It  has  been  openly  admit- 
ted that  in  many  munition  factories  women,  in  their 
eagerness  to  defeat  the  enemy,  are  producing  a  greater 
output  of  energy  each  day  than  men  working  in  the 
same  shops. 

Women  have  successfully  initiated  themselves  into 
new  kinds  of  war  work  which  had  hitherto  been  re- 
garded as  coming  only  within  man's  sphere.  Some- 
times, however,  woman,  in  the  excess  of  her  zeal,  is  do- 
ing work  she  ought  not  to  be  permitted  to  do  in  the 
interest  of  the  race  and  the  nation.  Delicately-bred 
women  should  not  be  allowed  to  push  tradesmen's  heavy 


THE  WOMEN  ARE  SPLENDID  127 

tricycles  or  undertake  the  duties  of  grooms  and  ostlers. 
But  there  are  still  wide  fields  of  opportunity  for  them 
in  most  of  the  indoor  and  many  of  the  outdoor  occupa-. 
tions. 

These  vocations  will  remain  open  in  those  dim  and 
distant  days,  known  as  "After  the  war,"  when  no  self- 
respecting  male  will  again  be  seen  matching  ribbons  be- 
hind counters,  typewriting,  standing  behind  aldermanic 
chairs,  or  playing  the  piano  at  kinema  theatres.  The 
men  who  have  been  bomb-throwing  will  have  no  appetite 
for  the  hundred-and-one  gentle  and  essentially  feminine 
pursuits  by  which  they  have  hitherto  earned  their  living. 

Every  woman  who  is  releasing  a  man  from  his  work 
is  helping  in  the  war.  And — to  do  them  justice — 
women,  with  their  characteristic  intuition,  saw  that  fact 
instantly.  Every  woman  so  engaged  is  showing  the 
world  the  real  capacity  of  her  sex  for  many  kinds  of 
labour,  and  is  also  helping  the  country  to  progress 
towards  a  much-desired  goal:  the  more  equal  distribu- 
tion of  money  among  the  people. 

Before  the  war,  in  dreary,  manless  suburbs  and  pro- 
vincial towns,  thousands  of  nice  girls,  whose  families 
thought  it  beneath  their  dignity  that  they  should  work, 
preferred  the  boresome  existence  of  keeping  up  appear- 
ances on  small  dress  allowances  to  an  active  participa- 
tion in  daily  life.  Since  the  war  these  young  women 
have  entered  into  the  battle  of  industrial  work  with  joy- 
ousness  and,  though  the  absence  of  the  best  of  the  land 
in  the  war  zone  is  unhappily  delaying  the  marriage  to 
which  every  patriotic  woman  looks  forward,  they  have 
the  great  satisfaction  of  knowing  that,  whether  they  be 
women  doctors,  women  dentists,  women  clerks,  women 
ticket  collectors,  or  engaged  in  any  other  professions, 
they  are  helping  the  great  cause  of  Freedom. 


BEFORE  VERDUN 


BEFORE  VERDUN  i 

THE  TRIUMPH   OF  FRANCE 

Before  Verdun^  March  4,  1^16. 

What  is  the  secret  motive  underlying  the  German 
attempt  to  break  the  French  line  at  Verdun,  in  which  the 
Crown  Prince's  Army  is  incurring  such  appalling  losses? 
Is  it  financial,  in  view  of  the  coming  war  loan?  Is  it 
dynastic.  Or  is  it  intended  to  influence  doubting  neu- 
trals? From  the  evidence  of  German  deserters  it  is 
known  that  the  attack  was  originally  intended  to  take 
place  a  month  or  two  hence,  when  the  ground  was  dry. 
Premature  spring  caused  the  Germans  to  accelerate  their 
plans.  There  were  tv/o  final  delays  owing  to  bad 
weather,  and  then  came  the  colossal  onslaught  of  Feb- 
ruary 21. 

The  Germans  made  a  good  many  of  the  mistakes  we 
made  at  Gallipoli.  They  announced  that  something 
large  was  pending  by  closing  the  Swiss  frontier.  The 
French,  who  were  not  ready,  were  also  warned  by  their 
own  astute  Intelligence  Department.  Their  avians  were 
not  idle,  and,  if  confirmation  were  needed,  it  was  given 
by  deserters,  who,  surmising  the  horrors  that  were  to 
come,  crept  out  of  the  trenches  at  night,  lay  down  by  the 
edge  of  the  Meuse  till  the  morning,  and  then  gave  them- 
selves  up,    together   with    information    that   has   since 

^  This  telegram  (and  the  others)  was,  necessarily,  written  in  great 
haste  and  with  the  military  censorship  in  view.    It  appeared  in  whole 

131 


132       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

proved  to  be  accurate.  Things  went  wrong  with  the 
Germans  in  other  ways.  A  Zeppelin  that  was  to  have 
blown  up  important  railway  junctions  on  the  French 
line  of  communications  was  brought  down  at  Revigny, 
and  incidentally  the  inhabitants  of  what  remains  of  that 
much-bombarded  town  were  avenged  by  the  spectacle  of 
the  blazing  dirigible  crashing  to  the  ground  and  the 
hoisting  with  their  own  petard  of  30  Huns  therein.  It 
is  not  necessary  to  recapitulate  that  the  gigantic  effort 
of  February  21  was  frustrated  by  the  coolness  and 
tenacity  of  the  French  soldiers*  and  the  deadly  curtain 
fire  of  the  French  gunners. 

Though  a  great  deal  of  calculated  nonsense  has  been 
sent  out  in  official  comrminiques  and  dilated  upon  by 
dithyrambic  Berlin  newspaper  correspondents  as  to  the 
taken  by  storm  of  the  long-dismantled  Fort  at  Douau- 
mont,  nothing  whatever  has  been  admitted  by  the  Ger- 
mans as  to  the  appalling  price  in  blood  they  have  paid 
since  February  21  and  are  still  paying.  The  French 
losses  are,  and  have  been,  insignificant.  I  know  the 
official  figure.  It  has  been  verified  by  conversations 
with  members  of  the  British,  French,  and  American  Red 
Cross  Societies,  who  are  obviously  in  a  position  to  know. 
The  wounded  who  pass  through  their  hands  have,  in 
many  cases,  come  straight  from  where  they  have  seen 
dead  Germans,  as  has  been  described  by  scores  of  wit- 
nesses, lying  as  lay  the  Prussian  Guard  in  the  first  Battle 
of  Ypres.  The  evidence  of  one  army  as  to  another 
army's  losses  needs  careful  corroboration.  This  exists 
amply  in  the  evidence  of  many  German  prisoners  inter- 
rogated singly  and  independently  at  the  French  Head- 
quarters. 

and  in  part  in  more  than  three  thousand  newspapers  in  many  lan- 
guages, at  a  moment  when  there  was  grave  anxiety  as  to  the  fate 
of  Verdun. 


BEFORE  VERDUN  133 

The  case  of  one  man,  belonging  to  the  3rd  Battalion 
of  the  I2th  Regiment  in  the  5th  Division  of  the  3rd 
Army  Corps  may  be  taken  as  characteristic.  On  the 
morning  of  February  28  this  prisoner  reached  the  Fort 
of  Douaumont  and  found  there  one  battalion  of  the 
24th  Regiment,  elements  of  the  64th  Regiment  and  of 
the  3rd  Battalion  of  Jager.  The  strength  of  his  com- 
pany had  been,  on  February  21,  200  rifles  with  four 
officers.  On  February  22  it  had  fallen  to  70  rifles,  with 
one  officer.  The  other  companies  had  suffered  similar 
losses.  On  February  2^^  the  prisoner's  company  was  re- 
inforced by  45  men,  bearing  the  numbers  of  the  12th,  the 
52nd,  the  35th,  and  the  205th  Regiments.  These  men 
had  been  drawn  from  various  depots  in  the  interior.  The 
men  of  the  12th  Regiment  believed  that  five  regiments 
were  in  reserve  in  the  woods  behind  the  3rd  Corps,  but, 
as  time  went  on  and  losses  increased  without  any  sign  of 
the  actual  presence  of  these  reserves,  doubt  spread 
whether  they  were  really  in  existence.  The  prisoner  de- 
clared that  his  comrades  were  no  longer  capable  of  fresh 
effort. 

None  of  the  prisoners  questioned  estimated  the  losses 
suffered  by  their  companies  at  less  than  one-third  of 
the  total  effectives.  Taking  into  account  all  available  in- 
dications, it  may  safely  be  assumed  that,  during  the  fight- 
ing of  the  last  13  days,  the  Germans  have  lost  in  killed, 
wounded,  and  prisoners  at  least   100,000  men. 

The  profits — as  the  soldier  speaks  of  such  matters — 
being  so  small,  what  then  are  the  overwhelming  motives 
that  impel  the  attack  on  Verdun,  and  the  chicanery  of 
the  German  communiques?  Is  it  for  any  of  the  reasons 
I  have  given  above,  or  is  it  an  effect  of  economic  pres- 
sure which  leads  to  the  miscalculation  that  the  possible 
taking  over  of  the  French  line  at  Verdun  is  a  means  of 


134.       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

ending  the  war?  The  Germans  are  so  wont  to  misread 
the  minds  of  other  nations  that  they  are  quite  fooHsh 
enough  to  make  themselves  beheve  this  or  any  other  fool- 
ish thing.  It  cannot  be  pretended  that  the  attack  has  in 
it  anything  of  military  necessity.  It  was  urged  forward 
at  a  time  of  year  when  weather  conditions  might  prove, 
as  they  have  proved,  a  serious  handicap  in  such  matters 
as  the  moving  of  big  gims  and  the  essential  observation 
by  aeroplanes. 

The  district  of  Verdun  lies  in  one  of  the  coldest  and 
also  the  most  misty  sectors  in  the  long  line  between  Nieu- 
port  and  Switzerland.  Changes  of  temperature,  too, 
are  somewhat  more  frequent  here  than  elsewhere ;  and  so 
sudden  are  these  changes  that  not  long  ago  here  occurred, 
on  a  part  of  the  front,  one  of  nature's  furious  and  ro- 
mantic reminders  of  her  power  to  impose  her  will.  The 
opposing  French  and  German  trenches,  their  parapets 
hard  frozen,  are  so  close  that  they  are  actually  within 
hearing  of  each  other.  Towards  dawn  a  rapid  thaw  set 
in.  The  parapets  melted  and  subsided,  and  two  long 
lines  of  men  stood  up  naked,  as  it  were,  before  each 
other,  face  to  face  with  only  two  possibilities — whole- 
sale murder  on  the  one  side  or  the  other,  or  a  temporary 
imofficial  peace  for  the  making  of  fresh  parapet  protec- 
tions. 

The  situation  was  astounding  and  unique  in  the  his- 
tory of  trench  warfare.  The  French  and  German  offi- 
cers, without  conferring  and  unwilling  to  negotiate, 
turned  their  backs  so  that  they  might  not  see  officially  so 
unwarlike  a  scene,  and  the  men  on  each  side  rebuilt  their 
parapets  without  the  firing  of  a  single  shot. 

This  instance  serves  to  illustrate  the  precarious 
weather  in  which  the  Germans  have  undertaken  an  ad- 
venture in  the  quick  success  of  which  the  elements  play 


BEFORE  VERDUN  135 

such  a  part.  That  the  attack  would  certainly  prove 
more  costly  to  them  than  to  the  French  the  German  Staff 
must  have  known.  That  the  sufferings  of  the  wounded 
lying  out  through  the  long  nights  of  icy  wind  in  the  No- 
Man's  Land  between  the  lines  would  be  great  did  not 
probably  disturb  the  Crown  Prince.  It  is  one  of  the 
most  gruesome  facts  in  the  history  of  the  War  that  the 
French,  peering  through  the  moonlight  at  what  they 
thought  to  be  stealthily  crawling  Germans,  found  them 
to  be  wounded  men  frozen  to  death. 

During  the  war,  in  France  and  in  Flanders,  in  camps 
and  in  hospitals,  I  have  conversed  with  at  least  lOO  Ger- 
mans. Prisoners'  talk  is  always  to  be  accepted  with 
great  reserve,  but  the  prisoners  of  the  Verdun  campaign 
have  so  plainly  horror  and  misery  depicted  upon  their 
countenances  that  I  need  no  other  evidence  as  to  the 
tragedy  through  which  they  have  passed. 

The  vast  battle  of  Verdun  might  have  been  arranged 
for  the  benefit  of  interested  spectators,  were  it  not  that 
the  whole  zone  for  miles  around  the  great  scene  is  as 
tightly  closed  to  the  outer  world  as  a  lodge  of  Free- 
masons. Furnished  with  every  possible  kind  of  pass, 
accompanied  by  a  member  of  the  French  Headquarters 
Staff  in  a  military  car  driven  by  a  chauffeur  whose  steel 
helmet  marked  him  as  a  soldier,  I  was  nevertheless  held 
up  by  intractable  gendarmes.  My  colleague  ( Mr.  Wick- 
ham  Steed  ^)  the  chief  of  the  foreign  department  of 
The  Times,  who  assisted  me  in  the  many  inquiries  I  was 

*  Mr.  Steed  speaks  French,  German  and  Italian  as  a  native,  knows 
other  languages  sufficiently  for  intercourse.,  and  does  not  object  to 
the  voyaging  vagaries  of  his  friend,  the  writer  of  the  fragments 
that  make  up  this  book.  During  our  Italian,  Swiss,  Spanish  and 
French  rush  in  the  autumn,  in  most  part  of  which  he  was  with  me, 
he  tells  me  that  our  sleep  average  was  three  and  a  half  hours  in  each 
twenty-four. — N, 


136       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

presently  allowed  to  make  in  and  about  the  battlefield, 
was  detained  with  me  at  a  point  twenty-five  miles  away 
from  the  great  scene.  Even  at  that  distance  the  mourn- 
ful and  unceasing  reverberation  of  the  guns  was  insis- 
tent, and,  as  the  sentry  examined  our  papers  and  waited 
for  telephonic  instructions,  I  counted  more  than  200  of 
the  distant  voices  of  Kultur. 

As  one  gets  nearer  and  nearer  the  great  arena  on 
which  the  whole  world's  eyes  are  turned  to-day,  proofs 
of  French  efficiency  and  French  thoroughness  are  count- 
less. I  do  not  pretend  to  any  military  knowledge  other 
than  a  few  scraps  gathered  in  some  half-dozen  visits  to 
the  War,  but  the  abundance  of  resen^e  shells  for  guns, 
from  mighty  howitzers  to  the  graceful  French  mitrail- 
leuse of  the  aeroplane,  of  rifle  ammunition,  of  petrol 
stores,  and  of  motor-wagons  of  every  description,  was 
remarkable.  I  can  truly  say  that  the  volume  exceeded 
anything  in  my  previous  experience. 

As  one  approaches  the  battle  the  volume  of  sound 
becomes  louder  and  at  times  terrific.  And  it  is  curious, 
the  mingling  of  peace  with  war.  The  chocolate  and  the 
pneumatic  tyre  advertisements  on  the  village  walls,  the 
kilometre  stone  with  its  ten  kilometres  to  Verdun,  a  vil- 
lage cure  peacefully  strolling  along  the  village  street, 
just  as  though  it  were  March,  1914,  and  his  congregation 
had  not  been  sent  away  from  the  war  zone,  while  their 
houses  were  filled  by  a  swarming  army  of  men  in  pale 
blue.  Such  a  wonderful  blue  this  new  French  invisible 
cloth!  A  squadron  of  cavalry  in  the  new  blue  and  their 
steel  helmets  passes  at  the  moment,  and  gives  the  im- 
pression that  one  is  back  again  in  what  were  known  as 
the  romantic  days  of  war. 

When  one  has  arrived  at  the  battlefield,  there  are  a 
dozen  vantage  points  from  which  with  glasses,  or,  indeed, 


BEFORE  VERDUN  137 

with  the  naked  eye,  one  can  take  in  much  that  has  hap- 
pened. Verdun  lies  in  a  great  basin  with  the  silvery 
Meuse  twining  in  the  valley.  The  scene,  is  on  the 
whole,  Scottish.  Verdun,  from  where  I  saw  it,  might 
be  Perth,  and  the  Meuse  the  Tay.  Small  groups  of  firs 
darken  some  of  the  hills,  giving  a  natural  resemblance 
to  Scotland. 

The  town  is  being  made  into  a  second  Ypres  by  the 
Germans.  Yet,  as  it  stands  out  in  the  sunlight,  it  is 
difficult  to  realise  that  it  is  a  place  whose  people  have 
all  gone,  save  a  few  of  the  faithful  who  live  below 
ground.  (Ypres  looked  like  that  the  first  time  I  saw 
it  soon  after  the  war  began.)  The  tall  tower  of  Ver- 
dun still  stands.  Close  by  us  is  a  hidden  French  bat- 
tery, and  it  is  pretty  to  see  the  promptitude  with  which 
it  sends  its  screaming  shells  back  to  the  Germans  within 
a  few  seconds  of  the  despatch  of  a  missive  from  the 
Huns.  One  speedily  grows  accustomed  to  the  sound 
and  the  scene,  and  can  follow  the  position  of  the  villages 
about  which  the  Germans  endeavour  to  mislead  the  world 
by  wireless  every  morning. 

We  journey  farther  afield,  and  the  famous  fort  of 
Douaumont  is  pointed  out.  The  storming  of  Fort 
Douaumont  as  related  by  the  German  despatches  is  on  a 
par  with  the  sinking  of  the  Tiger  and  the  recent  air 
bombardment  of  Liverpool.  All  the  w^orld  knows  that 
the  Tiger  is,  as  she  was  before  the  Germans  sank  her  in 
their  newspapers,  one  of  the  finest  ships  in  the  world,  and 
that  the  air  bombardment  of  Liverpool  was  imagined  in 
Berlin.  The  storming  of  Fort  Douaumont,  gunless  and 
unmanned,  was  about  as  important,  a  military  operation 
of  little  value.  A  number  of  the  Brandenburgers 
climbed  into  the  gunless  fort,  and  some  of  them  are 
still  there,  supplied  precariously  with  food  by  their  com- 


138       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

rades  at  night.  They  are  practically  surrounded  by  the 
French,  whose  Headquarters  Staff  regard  the  whole  in- 
cident as  a  simple  episode  in  the  give-and-take  of  war. 
The  announcement  of  the  fall  of  Fort  Douaumont  to  the 
world  evinces  the  great  anxiety  of  the  Germans  to  mag- 
nify anything  concerning  Verdun  into  a  great  event. 
It  should  also  cause  people  to  apply  a  grain  of  salt  to 
German  offical  communiques  before   swallowing  them. 

These  modern  battles  have  now  been  described  so  fre- 
quently that  there  is  little  new  to  be  written  of  them. 
Of  the  conflict  at  Verdun  it  can  be  said  that  on  a  fine  day 
and  out  of  sight  of  the  horrors  of  the  hand-to-hand  en- 
counters its  surroundings  make  it  a  beautiful  battle. 
There  is  rather  more  bird  life  in  this  part  of  France 
than  in  some  others,  and  we  noticed  with  particular  in- 
terest the  spirit  and  the  cheerful  song  of  a  lark  as  it 
climbed  skywards  hard  by  the  spot  where  a  French  "75" 
was  splitting  the  ears  with  its  snap  and  scream. 

As  night  falls  we  come  across  our  first  convoy  of  the 
great  hooded  motor  lorries,  which  my  companion 
counted  by  the  thousand  while  were  were  on  our  way 
between  Paris  and  the  Meuse.  The  War  has  reduced 
motor  transport  to  a  science,  and  in  no  way  is  French 
efficiency  better  demonstrated  than  in  the  manner  in 
which  they  have  added  to  the  carrying  capacity  of  their 
railways  and  great  canals.  They  have  utilised  thou- 
sands of  miles  of  poplar  and  lime-lined  roads  for  me- 
chanical transport  at  15  miles  an  hour.  On  one  road 
alone  w^e  counted  20  motor  convoys,  each  composed  of 
about  a  himdred  wagons,  and  each  group  indicated  by 
some  simple  mark,  such  as  a  four-leaved  shamrock,  an 
ace  of  hearts,  or  a  comet. 

Who  are  the  men  who  are  organising  the  great  bat- 
tle for  the  French  side?     Let  me  at  once  say  that  they 


BEFORE  VERDUN  139 

are  young  men.  General  Petain,  one  of  the  discoveries 
of  the  war,  till  lately  colonel  (and  since  this  date  pro- 
moted to  chief  command),  is  still  in  his  late  fifties; 
most  of  the  members  of  his  staflf  are  much  younger. 
One  hears  of  luxury  at  Headquarters,  but  I  have  not 
experienced  it,  either  at  our  own  Headquarters  or  at  the 
French.  General  Petain,  when  I  enjoyed  his  hospitality 
at  luncheon,  drank  tea.  Most  of  his  young  men  con- 
tented themselves  with  water,  or  the  white  wine  of  the 
Meuse. 

In  the  brief  meal  he  allowed  himself  the  General  dis- 
cussed the  battle  as  though  he  were  merely  an  interested 
spectator.  In  appearance  he  resembles  Lord  Roberts, 
though  he  is  of  larger  build.  In  accordance  with  the 
drastic  changes  that  the  French,  like  the  Germans,  are 
making  in  their  Command,  his  rise  has  been  so  rapid 
that  he  is  little  known  to  the  French  people,  though 
greatly  trusted  by  General  Joffre  and  the  Government.  I 
naturally  did  not  ask  his  opinion  on  any  matters  con- 
nected with  the  War.  We  discussed  the  Australians,  the 
Canadians,  the  great  growth  of  the  British  Army,  and 
kindred  matters. 

At  another  gathering  of  officers  some  one  asked 
whether  the  French  would  not  expect  the  British  to 
draw  off  the  Germans  by  making  an  attack  in  the  West. 
"It  is  questionable,"  replied  one  young  officer,  "whether 
such  an  attack  would  not  involve  disproportionate  losses 
that  would  weaken  the  Allies."  The  same  officer 
pointed  out  that,  although  the  capture  of  Verdun  would 
cause  great  regret,  owing  to  the  historic  name  it  bears,  it 
would  not,  for  many  reasons,  be  more  important  than 
the  pressing  back  of  any  other  similar  number  of  miles 
on  the  front.  Forts  being  of  little  account  since  the 
introduction  of  the  big  German  hammers,  he  believed 


140       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

that  General  Sarrail  had  said  that  the  question  was  not 
one  merely  of  dismantling  the  forts,  but  of  blowing 
them  up.  As  it  is,  whenever  the  Germans  capture  a 
piece  of  land  w^here  an  old  fort  happens  to  be,  they  will 
use  it  as  an  advertisement.  But  though  the  French  offi- 
cers are  not  looking  to  us,  so  far  as  I  could  learn,  for 
active  co-operation  now,  they  are  most  certainly  urging 
that  when  our  new  armies  and  their  officers  are  trained 
we  shall  aid  them  by  bearing  our  full  share  of  the  tre- 
mendous military  burden  they  are  carrying. 

The  present  attack  on  the  French  at  Verdun  is  by  far 
the  most  violent  incident  of  the  whole  Western  War. 
As  I  write  it  is  late.  Yet  the  bombardment  is  continu- 
ing, and  the  massed  guns  of  the  Germans  are  of  greater 
calibre  than  has  ever  been  used  in  such  numbers.  The 
superb  calm  of  the  French  people,  the  efficiency  of  their 
organisation,  the  equipment  of  their  cheery  soldiery, 
convince  one  that  the  men  in  the  German  machine  would 
never  be  able  to  compare  with  them  even  if  France  had 
not  the  help  of  Russia,  the  five  British  nations,  Belgium, 
Serbia,  Italy  and  Japan  (now  she  has  the  help  of  the 
United  States  also).  It  is  unsafe  to  prophesy  about  war, 
as  it  is  to  prophesy  about  any  other  human  affair, 
but  this  prediction  one  can  make,  and  wath  certainty: 
that,  whatever  may  be  the  result  of  the  attack  on  the 
Verdun  sector,  every  such  effort  will  result  in  adding 
many  more  thousands  of  corpses  to  those  now  lying  in 
the  valley  of  the  Meuse,  the  numbers  of  which  are  being 
so  carefully  concealed  from  the  neutral  world  and  the 
Germans  themselves;  and  could  neutrals  see  the  kind 
of  men  whom  the  Germans  do  not  scruple  to  use  as  sol- 
diers their  faith  in  Teutonic  physical  efficiency  would  re- 
ceive a  shock. 

Unluckily  a  pygmy  behind  a  machine-gun  is  the  equal 


BEFORE  VERDUN  141 

of  a  giant.  "What  a  pity  your  Highlanders  cannot  meet 
these  fellows  in  fair  fight,"  said  a  French  officer,  as  we 
reviewed  a  gang  of  prisoners.  "The  war  would  be  over 
in  a  month."  Personal  contact  with  the  miserable  crea- 
tures who  form  the  bulk  of  the  German  prisoners  here 
is  needed  to  convince  an  observer  that  such  specimens  of 
humanity  can  really  have  belonged  to  the  German  Army, 
and  especially  to  a  corps  d'elite  such  as  the  3rd,  or  Ber- 
lin, Army  Corps.  One  ill-favoured  youth  hailing  from 
Charlottenburg  was  barely  5  ft.  4in.  high.  Narrow- 
chested  and  peak-faced,  he  had  the  quick-wittedness  of 
the  urban  recruit,  but  seemed  far  better  fitted  for  his 
stool  as  a  raihvay  clerk  than  for  the  life  of  the  trenches 
or  for  the  ordeal  of  attack.  Yet  he  had  been  taken  at 
the  end  of  191 4  and  sent  to  Flanders  after  six  weeks' 
training,  "educated"  in  trench-making  for  another 
month,  then  left  to  fend  for  himself  and  his  comrades  as 
a  full-fledged  Prussian  eaglet.  Like  the  bulk  of  the 
other  prisoners  belonging  to  other  units,  he  had  been 
withdrawn  at  the  beginning  of  February  from  the  Flan- 
ders front  and  sent  to  the  neighbourhood  of  Verdun. 
He  had  known  that  there  was  to  be  an  attack,  but  until 
the  order  was  actually  given  neither  he  nor  his  comrades 
had  received  any  hint  of  the  precise  purpose  of  the  opera- 
tion in  which  he  was  to  be  employed. 

Of  one  thing  he  and  his  fellows  were  heartily  glad — 
to  be  taken  away  from  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
"frightful"  English  and  nearer  to  the  kindly  French. 
From  all  the  reports  which  these  men  had  received  from 
their  families  during  the  last  two  months  it  appears  that, 
in  the  words  of  one  of  them,  "there  reigns  in  Germany 
considerable  misery."  All  agreed  that  butter  is  unob- 
tainable, meat  scarce  (except  in  Alsace  and  parts  of 
Pomerania),  fat  almost  unknown.     In  most  respects  the 


142       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

food  of  the  Army  was  tolerable,  though  not  good  or 
abundant.  All  declared  that  enthusiasm  for  the  war 
had  long  since  evaporated,  though,  as  two  of  the  more 
intelligent  among  them  maintained,  the  German  Army 
does  not  expect  to  be  beaten,  even  if  it  no  longer  hopes 
to  win.  The  chief  longing  of  these  men,  as  of  their 
families,  was  for  peace. 

The  only  good  thing  about  these  prisoners  was  their 
foot-gear.  Their  stout  Bliicher  boots  were  an  object- 
lesson  in  the  necessity  of  tightening  certain  features  of 
our  blockade  and  of  adding  a  shortage  of  leather  to  the 
other  deficiencies  of  the  military  and  civil  supply  that 
are  wearing  down  the  German  power  of  resistance. 


LIFE  IN  REIMS 


LIFE  IN  REIMS 

THE  SIGN  THAT  WILL  BE  KEPT  FOREVER 

Reims\ 

As  our  motor  sped  toward  the  stricken  town  this; 
sunny  afternoon,  and  we  got  our  first  view  of  the  two 
towers  of  the  great  church,  we  rejoiced  not  a  httle  that 
at  a  distance  of  a  mile,  all  looked  as  it  did  before  the 
Germans  came,  and  when  we  reached  Reims  itself  there 
were  not,  at  that  particular  entrance  gate,  many  signs 
of  change.  We  were  glad  to  be  away  from  war  for  a 
while  and  to  see  women  and  children.  For  hours  sol- 
diers clad  in  horizon  blue,  Avith  their  paler  blue  helmets, 
had  been  our  only  companions.  Mighty  motor-lorries, 
vast  collections  of  forage  wagons,  travelling  kitchens, 
automobile  searchlights,  and  the  rest  of  the  apparatus  of 
war  had  blocked  the  roads  for  many  leagues.  In  the 
city  itself,  except  for  shut  shops  as  on  Sunday,  and  a 
look  of  desolation,  our  first  impressions  were  that  the 
story  of  Reims  had  been  exaggerated. 

But  suddenly,  on  our  way  to  the  cathedral,  in  the 
Boulevard  de  la  Paix,  strangely  named,  there  were 
whole  mansions  down  and  others  so  mutilated  that  they 
exposed  the  long-kept  privacy  of  chandelier ed  salons, 
bedrooms  now  wrecked,  and  hanging  staircases.  It  was 
in  the  little  square  in  front  of  the  cathedral  that  we 
found  Kultur  displayed  in  its  horrid  nakedness.     ThC; 

145 


146       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

Archbisop's  palace  looks  like  a  house  in  Pompeii,  the 
cathedral's  face,  partly  sandbagged,  is  ruined. 

Perhaps  my  readers  have  known  and  loved  Reims,  and 
can  recall  the  scene  at  the  great  west  entrance.  There 
is  a  humble  little  equestrian  figure  of  Jeanne  d'Arc,  car- 
rying now  in  her  hand  a  French  flag  and  decorated 
around  the  plinth  with  many  tributes  from  passing  sol- 
diery, who  have  paused  to  note  the  marvel  of  the  fact 
that  her  sanctity  has  not  been  disturbed  by  even  one  shell 
fragment.  To  the  right  of  this  little  figure  of  Joan  the 
Maid  and  facing  the  cathedral  is  the  Hotel  of  the  Lion 
d'Or,  the  front  damaged  but  the  house  itself,  though 
within  a  child's  stonethrow  of  the  cathedral,  hardly 
hurt.  To-day  the  hotel,  reminiscent  of  the  happy  holi- 
days of  thousands  of  English  and  American  tourists, 
bears  itself  bravely.  There  were  even  a  few  daffodils 
in  the  salle  a  manger,  and  there  is  a  comfortable  dug-out 
below  stairs.  There  was  exactly  one  foreign  visitor 
who  shared  with  us  the  excellent  meal  provided — Mr. 
Frank  Hedges  Butler,  a  well-known  friend  of  France 
and  one  of  the  pioneers  of  the  automobile.  Here  at 
Reims,  with  the  Huns  almost  within  rifle  shot,  and  in 
places  even  more  closely  adjoining  the  firing  line,  the 
French  provide  wonderful  meals. 

I  was  asked  to  perform  one  little  act  of  justice  in  con- 
nexion with  the  hotel.  It  is  held  by  Mme.  Pfister.  Her 
foreign-looking  name  gave  rise  to  ridiculous  rumours 
that  from  the  hotel  signals  were  sent  to  the  Hun  artil- 
lery whereby  the  hotel  was  spared  and  the  cathedral 
shelled.  Mme.  Pfister  is  French  and  her  son  is  in  the 
trenches.  When  the  golden  tide  of  English  and  Ameri- 
can tourists  returns  every  franc  will  be  needed  to  pay 
for  the  devastation  sustained,  and  no  unjust  slur  should 
deprive  this  hotel  of  even  one  possible  patron. 


LIFE  IN  REIMS  14T 

Reims  is  bombarded  with  persistent  regularity.  Its 
stricken  folk  are  subject  to  attacks  vastly  more  serious 
than  any  Zeppelin  raid,  and  so  often  that  the  French 
communiques  have  ceased  to  report  them.  The  world 
outcry  has  saved  the  remains  of  the  cathedral. 

Let  us  take  a  little  turn  in  the  town  while  the  guard- 
ian of  the  locked  church  is  fetched.  We  find  that  quite 
a  number  of  people  of  all  classes  remain.  The  old  men 
and  women  that  one  associates  with  war  are  seated  in  the 
doorways  of  such  houses  as  are  not  closed  or  in  ruins, 
children  play  in  the  streets  their  shrill  and  merry  games, 
a  funeral  passes  with  its  little  procession  following. 
Here  and  there  whole  streets  are  closed,  while  in  others 
a  superficial  observer  would  imagine  that  life  in  Reims 
was  going  on  as  usual.  Judging  by  the  wall  advertise- 
ments, there  seem  to  be  some  amusements,  such  as  kine- 
matographs.  There  is  no  lack  of  excellent  food  in  the 
shops  that  are  open.  The  people  seem  quite  undisturbed 
by  the  continual  murmur  of  cannon,  and  indeed  after  a 
few  minutes  one  is  oblivious  of  it. 

Reims  is  a  queer  but  quite  an  attractive  melange,  diffi- 
cult to  describe.  Almost  every  one  carries  a  gas  mask; 
the  men  keep  theirs  in  compact  tin  cases  slung  from  the 
wrist  or  attached  to  bicycle  handle,  the  women  in  vari- 
ous kinds  of  bags.  These  masks  can  be  bought  at  any 
chemist's  and  are  so  prepared  as  to  need  merely  damping 
with  water  when  required.  The  preponderance  of  the 
remaining  native  population  is,  of  course,  feminine, 
mostly  workgirls  who  work  in  the  great  champagne 
caves,  and  in  this  matter  I  am  asked  to  state  that  the 
war  vintage  of  191 5  is  believed  to  be  the  best  since  1900. 
Here,  deep  down  underground,  thousands  of  women  are 
busy  filling  and  turning  the  acres  of  bottles  that  are  ar- 
ranged in  the  wonderful  subterranean  highways. 


148       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

We  obtained  permission  to  descend  into  the  famous 
Pommery  cellars,  which  are  laid  out  in  what  are  really 
streets  of  wine,  the  whole  forming  an  underground  city 
of  considerable  extent.  Millions  of  bottles  are  twisted 
by  a  dexterous  movement  of  the  hand  each  day.  The 
process  of  preparing  the  champagne  which  will  one  day 
sparkle  on  distant  tables  wherever  there  is  merriment 
is  so  complicated  that  the  relatively  high  cost  of  this  wine 
can  be  easily  understood. 

We  have  not  time  to  tarry  in  the  deep  chalk  streets 
of  wine,  many  of  which  are  named  after  American  and 
English  cities,  such  as  Manchester-street,  Liverpool- 
street,  New  York-street,  and  the  rest,  for  Notre  Dame 
is  our  aim.  W^e  have  made  a  long  journey  to  see  it,  and 
we  are  unfortunate  to  have  found  its  guardian  away. 
When  we  emerge  to  the  surface  and  to  sunlight  and  the 
sound  of  guns,  we  hasten  to  the  cathedral  so  as  to  be 
there  at  the  appointed  moment,  when  what  remains  of 
the  great  window  will  be  at  its  best  in  the  setting  sun. 
We  are  amused,  en  passant,  by  a  glimpse  of  a  real  Pari- 
sian elegante,  with  the  extremely  high  hat  of  the  moment, 
the  wide  skirt,  and  the  showy  boots,  carrying  in  her  right 
hand  her  Pekinese  and  in  her  left  her  gas  mask,  looking 
as  though  she  had  just  walked  in  from  the  Avenue  du 
Bois.     A  truly  remarkable  sex! 

The  people  of  Reims  keep  the  shell  of  the  cathedral 
strictly  closed,  as  though  to  hide  its  humiliation  from 
such  few  soldier  travellers  in  the  war  zone  as  have  time 
to  pause  a  moment  in  their  urgent  and  bloody  business. 
First,  after  glancing  at  the  ruined  facade,  whose  graven 
figures  were  considered  one  of  the  masterpieces  of  their 
period,  we  pondered  some  minutes  in  the  remains  of 
the  Archbishop's  palace.  We  had  known  it  in  happier 
days.     The  beautiful  Salle  du  Tau,  where  the  corona- 


LIFE  IN  REIMS  149 

tion  banquets  were  held,  had  a  wonderful  fifteenth-cen- 
tury chimney,  but  nothing  remains  to-day  of  the  Arch- 
bishop's palace  but  wreckage  and  blackened  and  ruined 
walls.  Modem  artillery  is  mathematically  accurate. 
For  some  fiendish  reason  the  palace  had  been  especially 
chosen  as  an  objective.  It  is  a  building  of  only  two 
storeys,  so  low  as  to  be  of  no  possible  value  as  an  obser- 
vation post.  The  guardian  told  us  that  over  a  thousand 
shells  fell  therein. 

We  passed  by  a  little  door  into  the  great  church,  whose 
doors  had  been  continuously  open  since  the  rebuilding 
in  148 1,  and  whose  walls  had  contained  so  much  magnifi- 
cence  in  the  past.  Generations  of  affectionate  guardians 
have  seen  to  it  that  the  coronation  place  of  kings  was 
swept  and  garnished  each  day.  Now,  save  for  the  wild 
pigeons  who  are  taking  up  their  residence  and  whose 
peaceful  cooing  mingles  strangely  with  the  distant  boom-^ 
ing  of  German  guns,  it  is  bereft  of  life.  The  warm  scent 
of  incense  is  gone.  The  whole  vast  space  of  the  cathe- 
dral which  looks  so  much  bigger  than  it  did  before  so 
much  of  the  internal  woodwork  was  burned,  is  desola- 
tion itself.  An  attempt  had  been  made  at  a  tidying  up, 
and  the  little,  old  guardian  who  shows  us  the  ruins,  in- 
dicating the  obvious  deliberation  with  which  various 
parts  of  the  cathedral  have  been  shelled,  tells  us  that  very 
soon  all  will  be  restored  and  well.  He  has  the  absolute 
confidence  of  practically  every  Frenchman  we  met  that 
the  barbarians  will  soon  leave  France.  He  tells  us  with 
delight  that  the  famous  tapestries,  which  will  be  remem- 
bered by  all,  were  taken  away  at  the  first  news  of  the 
invasion  of  the  Huns  and  are  safe,  as  is  also,  we  found 
afterwards,  the  beautiful  Church  of  St.  Remi. 

Many  people  ask  about  the  glass  of  Reims  and  what 
has  happened  to  it.     Much  of  it  is  gone.     A  great  deal 


150       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

of  it  is  passing  over  the  world  in  fragments  as  souvenirs. 
Set  in  the  aluminum  rings  made  in  the  trenches  from 
German  fuzes,  the  blue  glass  is  difficult  to  distinguish 
from  sapphire. 

As  the  moment  came  for  saying  farewell  to  Notre 
Dame  the  great  rose  window  over  the  main  portal  il- 
lumined the  whole  church.  Partly  because  half  of  it  is 
destroyed,  the  light  came  in  strongly,  and  as  the  sun 
sank  a  fierce  gleam  lit  up  a  horrible  discoloration  on  the 
stone  pavement.  "That,"  said  our  guide  with  much 
feeling,  *'is  the  burnt  blood  of  the  wounded  Germans 
who  had  sought  refuge  in  the  cathedral  and  who  were 
done  to  death  by  their  own  incendiary  shells.  That  sign 
Ave  shall  keep  forever  as  a  warning  to  the  world  of  the 
danger  of  Hun  ferocity." 


WITH   THE   ITALIANS 


WITH   THE   ITALIANS 

Of  the  ferocious  fighting  on  the  ItaHan  front  little 
is  understood  in  England.  If  the  figures  of  the  wounded 
carried  by  the  British  Red  Cross  ambulances  alone  could 
be  published,  they  would,  perhaps,  open  the  eyes  of  the 
public.  Let  me  select  one  battle  scene,  the  birdless, 
waterless  Carso.  It  is  certainly  the  thirstiest  battlefield 
this  side  of  Suez.  It  can  only  be  compared  to  a  gigantic 
Shap  fell  or  Devonshire  tor.  It  is  not  unlike  the  Arizona 
desert  without  the  alkali. 

As  another  battlefield,  look  at  the  Calvaria  position, 
on  the  Podgora  hill  outside  Gorizia  on  the  west  bank  of 
the  Isonzo  river.  Take  the  steepest  wooded  hillside  you 
know;  put  the  Austrians,  deeply  and  cunningly  en- 
trenched, on  the  top;  and  realise  that  the  capture  of  that 
one  hill  has  cost  Italy  15  months'  bloodshed.  The  price 
was  great,  though  the  thousand  deeds  of  heroism  which 
resulted  in  the  sudden  flight  of  the  Austrians  should  thrill 
generations  of  Italians  yet  unborn. 

These  are  but  two  of  the  battlefields  of  Italy  which 
are  barely  known  to  the  outside  world.  They  deserve 
to  be  known. 

We  toiled  one  day  under  a  burning  sun  along  miles 
of  the  rugged  Carso — the  harsh  German  name  ''Karst'* 
seems  apter  for  this  inhospitable,  rock-strewn  plateau, 
where  lizards  alone  find  life  bearable — past  where  a  week 
before  had  been  Italian-Austrian  first  line  positions.  In 
one  night  the  Italian  engineers  had  hammered  and  hewn 
across  the  bare  limestone  a  tolerable  road  which  next 

153 


154       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

day  would  be  smooth  enough  for  motor  vehicles.  Warm 
food — the  excellent  Italian  minestrone,  a  thick  soup  com- 
posed of  meat,  vegetables,  rice,  and  macaroni — was  being 
brought  up  on  mule  back  to  the  danger  zone  and  carried 
thence  by  hand  to  the  firing  line. 

One  gruesome  sight  in  the  former  No  Man's  Land 
between  the  first  positions  bore  witness  to  the  character 
of  the  climate.  We  came  upon  the  remains  of  a  human 
body  in  a  kneeling  posture  absolutely  mummified  by  the 
scorching  heat  amid  the  brambles,  thistles,  wild  roses, 
and  scraggy  mountain  ash,  which  form  the  only  vegeta- 
tion in  this  desolate  region.  While  collecting  battle  sou- 
venirs for  a  boy  friend  at  home  I  discovered  that,  dur- 
ing the  hot  hours  of  the  day,  metal  objects  can  only  be 
handled  with  difficulty. 

A  strange  feature  of  the  Carso  are  the  deep,  crater- 
like depressions  called  doline,  filled  with  dark  brown, 
peaty  earth,  every  one  of  which  forms  a  natural  fort. 
The  Austrian  troops  fortify  them  and  build  officers' 
shelters  in  their  sides.  One  such  group  of  shelters  had 
been  devastated  by  the  Italian  bombardment.  The  occu- 
pants had  fled,  abandoning  vast  quantities  of  ammuni- 
tion, entrenching  tools,  whole  cases  marked  "explosive 
cartridges,"  piles  of  rockets,  a  rich  assortment  of  hand- 
grenades,  lengths  of  water  hose,  rolls  of  wire,  and  other 
paraphernalia  of  this  uncanny  war.  A  pestilential  odour 
proved  that  not  all  the  inhabitants  of  these  barbaric  ex- 
cavations had  fled.  Letters  and  relics  also  showed  that 
ladies  from  Budapest  had  been  not  infrequent  visitors. 

Owing  to  the  fact  that  so  many  Italian  and  Austrian 
soldiers  have  worked  in  the  United  States  and  Canada, 
it  often  happens  that  English  is  the  only  language  in 
which  they  can  mutually  converse.  One  day  I  saw  a 
small  band  of  prisoners  being  brought  in  by  Bersaglieri, 


WITH  THE  ITALIANS  155 

who  answered  my  remarks  upon  the  stout  physical  ap- 
pearance of  the  prisoners  by  saying  in  good  New  York 
dialect,  'They  can  holler  all  right,  Mister,"  at  which  the 
prisoners  grinned  with  evident  understanding. 

On  a  Sunday  afternoon  I  witnessed  on  the  Izonzo  front 
a  prolonged  bombardment,  at  a  distance  of  5,500  yards, 
of  a  rocky  cavern  in  which  an  Austrian  battery  of  moun- 
tain guns  and  a  number  of  machine-guns  were  known 
to  be  concealed.  Hour  after  hour  8  in.  Howitzers  planted 
their  shells  within  a  few  yards  of  the  same  spot.  It  was 
bright  and  clear,  and  through  a  powerful  telescope  we 
could  pick  out  every  individual  pine  tree  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  cavern,  and  see  great  rock  splinters  being 
thrown  in  all  directions  at  the  moment  of  the  explosion 
of  the  shell. 

Next  morning  I  was  writing  in  brilliant  sunshine  and 
several  degrees  of  frost  on  the  Cadore  front.  It  is  not 
usually  realised  that  the  Italian  front  is  nearly  500  miles 
long.  In  the  parched,  stony  wilderness  of  the  Carso, 
which  I  have  already  described,  the  chief  enemy  of  the 
fighting  man  is  thirst.  The  chief  enemy  on  the  Cadore 
front  is  frost.  These  two  facts  should  bring  home  some 
of  the  difficulties  that  the  Italians  have  faced  for  29 
months. 

In  discussing  the  peculiarities  of  the  mountain  fight- 
ing as  contrasted  with  the  fighting  on  the  road  to  Tri- 
este, his  Alajesty  the  King  of  Italy,  who  has  a  fine  sense 
of  words,  and  who  has  spoken  English  from  childhood, 
said : — 'Ticture  to  yourself  my  men  9,000  ft.  up  in  the 
clouds  for  seven  months,  in  deep  snow,  so  close  to  the 
Austrians  that  at  some  points  the  men  can  see  their  ene- 
mies' eyes  through  the  observation  holes.  Imagine  the 
difficulties  of  such  a  life  with  continual  sniping  and  bomb- 
throwing." 


156       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

King  Victor  Emmanuel's  grim  picture  of  war  was  in 
such  strong  contrast  to  the  tropical  fighting  I  had  seen 
that  I  asked  General  Cadorna  for  permission  to  come 
and  see  the  fighting  in  the  clouds.  The  illustrated  news- 
papers have  from  time  to  time  published  photographs  of 
great  cannon  carried  up  into  these  Dolomite  Alps,  but  I 
confess  to  having  never  realised  what  it  meant.  It 
had  never  occurred  to  me  to  imagine  what  happens  to 
the  wounded  men,  or  to  the  dead.  How  do  supplies  and 
ammunition  reach  these  lonely  sentinels  of  our  Allies? 

I  have  watched  great  steamers  arrive  at  our  British 
bases  in  France — the  transport  of  their  freight  by  train 
and  the  wonderful  motor  service,  and  then  on  by  light 
railways  or  horse  vehicles.  Here  food  for  the  men  and 
food  for  the  guns  go  first  by  giddy,  zigzag  roads,  specially 
built  by  the  Italians  for  this  war.  They  are  not  mere 
tracks,  but  are  as  wide  as  the  Grand  Corniche  that  runs 
between  Nice  and  Mentone.  When  these  have  reached 
their  utmost  possible  height  there  comes  a  w^iole  series  oi 
"wire  ways,"  as  the  Italian  soldiers  call  them.  Steel 
cables  slung  from  hill  to  hill,  from  ridge  to  ridge,  span 
yawning  depths  and  reach  almost  vertically  into  the 
clouds.  Up  these  cables  go  guns  and  food,  as  well  as 
timber  for  the  huts,  in  which  the  men  live ;  and  material 
for  entrenchments.  Down  these  come  the  wounded.  The 
first  sensation  of  a  transit  down  these  seemingly  fragile 
tight-ropes  is  much  more  curious  than  the  first  trip  in  a 
submarine  or  aeroplane,  and  tries  even  the  strongest 
nerves. 

Man  is  not  only  fighting  man  at  these  heights,  but 
both  Italians  and  Austrians  have  been  fighting  Nature 
in  some  of  her  fiercest  aspects.  The  gales  and  snow- 
storms are  excelled  in  horror  by  avalanches.  Quite 
lately  the  melting  snow  revealed  the  frozen  bodies,  lock- 


WITH  THE  ITALIANS  157 

ing  horribly  lifelike,  of  a  whole  platoon  which  had  been 
swept  away  nearly  a  year  ago. 

While  there  have  been  heavy  casualties  on  both  sides 
from  sniping,  bombing,  mountain-  and  machine-guns,  and 
heavy  artillery,  there  has  been  little  sickness  among  the 
Italians.  The  men  know  that  doctors'  visits  are  practi- 
cally impossible.  Therefore  they  follow  the  advice  of 
their  officers.  King  Victor  Emmanuel,  whose  life  has 
been  passed  almost  entirely  among  the  troops  since  the 
beginning  of  the  war,  told  me,  however,  that  despite  the 
greatest  care,  occasional  casualties  from  frost-bite  are 
impossible  to  avoid.  Yet  the  men  have  all  the  comforts 
that  it  is  humanly  possible  to  obtain.  The  cloud  fighters 
are  extremely  well  fed.  Huts  are  provided,  fitted  with 
stoves  similar  to  those  used  in  Arctic  expeditions. 

I  do  not  know  how  many  kinds  of  artillery  are  used 
in  these  Alps.  In  addition  to  heavy  guns  there  are  guns 
carried  on  mules  and  guns  partly  carried  by  mountain 
artillerymen — huge  fellows  whose  weight-carrying  ca- 
pacity entirely  puts  into  the  shade  that  of  the  Constan- 
tinople hamcls,  or  porters.  When  Queen  Margherita  ar- 
rived at  Gressoney  some  years  ago,  four  Alpine  gunners 
presented  arms  with  the  guns  of  a  battery.  They  are 
cheery  fellows,  not  a  little  proud  of  their  strength,  and 
with  backs  like  bulls. 

Higher  yet  than  the  mountain  fighting  line  stand  the 
vedettes,  sentinels  and  outposts  whose  work  resembles 
that  of  expert  Alpine  climbers.  They  carry  portable  tele- 
phones, with  which  they  can  communicate  with  their  pla- 
toon. The  platoon  in  turn  telephones  to  the  local  com- 
mander. When  thinking  of  our  own  brave  men  who 
have  held  the  trenches  in  French  Flanders  for  these  two 
years  and  who  now,  with  Dominion  and  Oversea  troops, 
are  alongside  the  French  slowly  forcing  back  the  Ger- 


158       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

mans  in  Flanders,  it  is  only  fair  that  we  should  realise 
that,  but  for  the  work  of  these  Italians  in  weakening 
Germany's  chief  ally  in  the  mountains,  on  the  lower 
ground  near  Gorizia,  in  Gorizia  itself,  and  in  the  Carso 
desert,  our  advance  would  not  have  been  possible. 

General  Cadorna  is  intensely  grateful  to  the  heroes 
fallen  in  the  strange,  deadly  guerilla  warfare  on  the 
mountain  peaks.  I  saw  one  gallant  young  officer  with 
three  medals  for  valour.  In  one  division  alone  40  such 
medals  were  recently  distributed — a  sure  sign  how  Gen- 
eral Cadorna,  who  is  no  sentimentalist,  appreciates  the 
gallantry  of  these  fighters  among  -the  precipices  and  ava- 
lanches. 

On  reaching  the  headquarters  of  this  division  at  dawn 
I  found  a  batch  of  prisoners  captured  in  a  midnight 
battle  near  a  Dolomite  summit  drawn  up  in  line.  In 
contradistinction  to  the  prisoners  taken  in  the  Plain 
battle,  they  were  ragged  and  unkempt  tramps.  The  only 
decent  things  about  them  were  their  boots,  rifles,  and  the 
stout  mountain  staf¥  which  each  carried.  The  captors, 
with  soldierly  generosity,  had  shared  their  own  soup  with 
them — food  such  as,  the  prisoners  said,  they  had  not 
tasted  for  six  months.  One  had  a  lump  of  Austrian  mili- 
tary bread.  Dark  coloured — not  the  healthy  colour  of 
rye  bread — hard  to  chew,  sodden  to  touch,  evil  of  smell, 
it  seems  barely  possible  that  it  can  sustain  the  strength 
of  human  beings  in  the  coming  terrible  winter  conditions 
of  this  mountain  warfare. 

As  the  sun  rose  the  great  peaks  of  the  Dolomites  stood 
out  like  pink  pearls,  set  here  and  there  in  a  soft  white 
vapour.  Coming  through  a  Canadian-looking  pine  for- 
est, with  log-house  barracks,  kitchens,  and  canteens  be- 
neath one  such  peak,  I  was  reminded  of  Dante's  lines : — 
**Gazing  above,  I  saw  her  shoulders  clothed  already  with 


WITH  THE  ITALIANS  159 

the  planet's  rays."  But  poetic  memories  soon  faded  be- 
fore a  sniper's  bullet  from  a  very  near  Austrian  outlook. 

At  one  spot  the  Austrian  and  Italian  barbed  wire  en- 
tanglements were  clearly  visible  through  glasses  on  a 
neighbouring  summit  at  a  height  of  over  10,000  feet.  A 
few  yards  below  in  an  open  cavern  protected  by  an  over- 
hanging rock  the  little  grey  tents  of  Italy's  soldiers  were 
plainly  seen. 

The  Italians  have  driven  back  the  Austrians  foot  by 
foot  up  the  almost  vertical  Dolomite  rock  with  mountain, 
field,  and  heavy  gims,  and  especially  in  hand-to-hand  and 
bomb  lighting.  Sniping  never  ceases  by  day,  but  the 
actual  battles  are  almost  invariably  fought  by  night. 

The  only  day  fighting  is  when,  as  in  the  famous  cap- 
ture of  Col  di  Lana  and  more  recently  at  Castelletto, 
the  whole  or  part  of  a  mountain  top  has  to  be  blown  off, 
because  it  is  impossible  to  turn  or  carry  it  by  direct  as- 
sault. Tunnels,  sometimes  800  yards  long,  are  drilled 
by  machinery  through  the  solid  rock  beneath  the  Aus- 
trian strongholds,  which  presently  disappear  under  the 
smashing  influence  of  30  or  40  tons  of  dynamite.  Then 
the  Alpini  swarm  over  the  debris  and  capture  or  kill  the 
enemy  survivors  and  rejoice  in  a  well-earned  triumph. 

One  needs  to  have  scaled  a  mountain  side  to  an  Italian 
gun  emplacement  or  look-out  post  to  gauge  fully  the  na- 
ture of  this  warfare.  Imagine  a  catacomb,  hewn  through 
the  hard  rock,  with  a  central  hall  and  galleries  leading 
to  a  gun  position  7,000  feet  up.  Reckon  that  each  gun 
emplacement  represents  three  months'  constant  labour 
with  drill,  hammer,  and  mine.  Every  requirement,  as 
well  as  food  and  water,  must  be  carried  up  by  men  at 
night  or  under  fire  by  day.  Every  soldier  employed  at 
these  heights  needs  another  soldier  to  bring  him  food  and 
drink,  unless,  as  happens  in  some  places,  the  devoted  wives 


160       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

of  the  Alpini  act  nightly  under  organised  rules  as  porters 
for  their  husbands. 

The  food  supply  is  most  efficiently  organised.  A  young 
London  Italian  private,  speaking  English  perfectly,  whom 
I  met  by  chance,  told  me,  and  I  have  since  verified  the 
information,  that  the  men  holding  this  long  line  of  the 
Alps  received  special  food,  particularly  during  the  seven 
months'  winter.  Besides  the  excellent  soup  which  forms 
the  staple  diet  of  the  Italian  as  of  the  French  soldiers, 
the  men  receive  a  daily  ration  of  two  pounds  of  bread, 
half  a  pound  of  meat,  half  a  pint  of  red  wine,  macaroni 
of  various  kinds,  rice,  cheese,  dried  and  fresh  fruit,  choco- 
late, and,  thrice  weekly,  small  quantities  of  Cognac  and 
Marsala. 

Members  of  the  Alpine  Club  know  that  in  the  high 
Dolomites  water  is  in  summer  often  as  precious  as  on 
the  Carso.  Snow  serves  this  purpose  in  winter.  Three 
months'  reserve  supplies  of  oil  fuel,  food,  alcohol,  and 
medicine  must  be  stored  in  the  catacomb  mountain  posi- 
tions, lest,  as  happened  to  an  officer  whom  I  met,  the  gar- 
risons should  be  cut  off  by  snow  for  weeks  and  months 
at  a  time. 

The  experience  of  the  Italian  front  brings  into  prom- 
inence one  Uttle  understood  aspect  of  the  Italian  charac- 
ter— its  patience,  and  its  industry  as  of  ants.  Pasienza 
is  one  of  the  commonest  Italian  words.  Here  it  is  ex- 
emplified both  by  faith  and  works. 


SIR  DOUGLAS  HAIG 


SIR  DOUGLAS  HAIG 

A  GREAT  MAN  THROWN  UP  BY  THE  WAR 

When  history  relates  the  story  of  the  great  battles 
of  the  Somme,  it  will  tell  how  Sir  Douglas  Haig  and 
his  Staff  had  their  Headquarters  in  a  modest  dwelling, 
part  of  which  was  still  occupied  by  the  family  who  owned 
it. 

Thus  it  is  that  the  voices  of  children  running  up  and 
down  the  corridors  mingle  with  the  ceaseless  murmur  of 
the  guns  and  the  work  of  the  earnest  little  company  of 
men  whose  labours  are  never  out  of  the  thoughts  of  their 
countrymen  throughout  the  Empire. 

The  head  of  this  band  of  brothers,  the  Commander- 
in-Chief  of  an  Army  ten  times  larger  than  that  of  the 
great  Duke,  is  Sir  Douglas  Haig,  well  known  to  his  troops 
from  the  base  to-  the  front,  though  hardly  known  at  all 
to  the  masses  of  his  fellow- subjects  at  home. 

In  these  days  of  instant  communication  by  telephone, 
despatch  rider,  telegraph,  or  wireless,  a  greater  part  of 
the  hfe  of  the  Commander-in-Chief  is  spent  at  his  Head- 
quarter offices.  In  times  of  stress  he  rarely  moves  from 
them.  Outwardly  the  life  of  Sir  Douglas  Haig  might 
seem  to  be  that  of  some  great  Scotch  laird  who  chooses 
to  direct  his  estates  himself. 

At  exactly  five  and  twenty  minutes  past  eight  each 
morning  Sir  Douglas  joins  his  immediate  Staff  at  the 
usual  informal  breakfast  of  English  life.    Though  he  has 

163 


164        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

selected  his  Staff,  without  fear  or  favour,  from  the  best 
elements  of  the  British  Armies  that  have  been  tried  for 
two  years  in  the  field,  there  is  something  indefinably  Scot- 
tish in  the  atmosphere  of  his  table.  The  Commander-in- 
Chief  is  of  an  ancient  Scottish  family  born  in  the  king- 
dom of  Fife,  so  that  the  spear  of  our  British  offensive 
is  tipped  with  that  which  is  considered  to  be  more  ada- 
mant than  the  granite  of  Aberdeen.  Lithe  and  alert.  Sir 
Douglas  is  known  for  his  distinguished  bearing  and  good 
looks.  He  has  blue  eyes  and  an  unusual  facial  angle, 
delicately-chiselled  features,  and  a  chin  to  be  reckoned 
with.  There  is  a  characteristic  movement  of  the  hands 
when  explaining  things. 

Sir  Douglas  does  not  waste  words.  It  is  not  because 
he  is  silent  or  unsympathetic — it  is  because  he  uses  words 
as  he  uses  soldiers,  sparingly,  but  always  with  method. 
When  he  is  interested  in  his  subject,  as  in  talking  of  his 
gratitude  to  and  admiration  of  the  new  armies  and  their 
officers,  or  in  testifying  to  the  stubborn  bravery  of  the 
German  machine-gunners,  it  is  not  difficult  to  discern 
from  his  accent  that  he  is  what  is  known  North  of  the 
Tweed  as  a  Fifer.  A  Fifer  is  one  of  the  many  types  that 
have  helped  to  build  up  the  Empire,  and  is  probably  the 
best  of  all  for  dealing  with  the  Prussian.  First  of  all  in 
the  armoury  of  the  Fifer  is  patience,  then  comes  oblivion 
to  all  external  surroundings  and  pressure,  with  a  supreme 
concentration  on  the  object  to  be  attained.  Fifeshire  is 
the  home  of  the  national  game  of  Scotland ;  and  it  is  the 
imperturbability  of  the  Fifer  that  makes  him  so  difficult 
to  beat  in  golf,  in  affairs,  and  in  war.  Behind  the  dour- 
ness  of  the  man  of  the  East  Coast  is  the  splendid  enthu- 
siasm that  occasion  sometimes  demands,  though  there  is 
no  undue  depression  or  elation  at  an  unexpected  bunker 
or  an  even  unusually  fortunate  round. 


SIR  DOUGLAS  HAIG  165 

While  I  was  with  the  little  family  party  at  Head- 
quarters there  came  news  that  was  good,  and  some  that 
was  not  so  good.  Neither  affected  the  Commander-in- 
Chief's  attitude  towards  the  war,  nor  the  day's  work,  in 
the  least  degree  whatever.  There  are  all  sorts  of  minor 
criticisms  of  the  Commander-in-Chief  at  home,  mainly 
because  the  majority  of  the  people  know  nothing  about 
him.  He  is  probably  not  interested  in  home  comments, 
but  is  concerned  that  the  Empire  should  know  of  the  un- 
precedented valour  of  his  officers  and  men.  Consequently 
the  doings  of  the  Army  are  put  before  the  world  each  day 
with  the  frankness  that  is  part  of  Sir  Douglas  Haig's 
own  character.  He  is  opposed  to  secrecy  except  where 
military  necessity  occasions  it.  He  dislikes  secret  re- 
ports on  officers.  Those  who  visit  him  are  treated  with 
great  candour,  and  there  is  always  a  suitable  selection  of 
guests  at  Headquarters  to  bring  variety  to  the  meal-times 
of  men  who  are  engaged  in  their  all-absorbing  tasks.  H 
they  are  interested  in  any  particular  part  of  the  organisa- 
tion, medical,  transport,  artillery,  strategy,  they  are  in- 
vited to  ask  questions  and,  if  possible,  to  suggest.  In 
many  large  houses  of  business  there  is  a  suggestion-box 
in  which  the  staff  or  employees  are  invited  to  put  forward 
their  ideas  in  writing.  I  do  not  know  whether  there  is 
such  an  institution  in  the  Army,  but  certainly  all  sorts  of 
new  ideas  are  discussed  at  the  table  at  General  Head- 
quarters. In  every  case  "Can  it  be  done?"  takes  prece- 
dence of  "It  can't  be  done." 

Nor,  despite  the  fact  that  the  Commander-in-Chief  is 
a  Cavalry  officer,  does  he  show  any  obsession  with  the 
arm  with  which  the  greater  part  of  his  military  life  has 
had  to  deal.  Surrounded  by  a  group  of  the  best  experts 
our  Empire  can  provide,  most  of  whom  have  had  24 
months'  war  experience,  he  is  in  conference  with  them 


166        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

from  morning  till  late  at  night.  During  his  daily  exer- 
cise ride  he  has  one  or  other  of  his  staff  experts  with  him. 
The  wonderful  system  of  communication  established 
throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  his  zone  has  linked 
up  the  whole  military  machine  so  effectively  that  infor- 
mation can  be  gained  instantly  from  most  distant  and 
difficult  parts  of  his  line  of  operations  or  communica- 
tions. In  the  ante-chambers  of  the  Commander-in-Chief's 
small  working-room  the  telephone  is  rarely  silent;  and  a 
journey  into  many  parts  of  his  Army  proved  to  me  that 
out  of  the  two  years'  struggle  have  emerged  men,  and 
often  very  young  men,  able  to  do  the  Commander-in- 
Chief's  bidding  or  to  furnish  him  with  what  he  desires. 
Out  of  the  necessary  chaos  of  a  war  that  was  unexpected 
save  by  the  Army  and  a  few  prescient  students,  have 
emerged  Armies  in  which  Scottish  precision  and  courage, 
English  dash  and  tenacity,  Irish  defiance  and  devotion, 
Australian  and  Canadian  fierce  gallantry  all  play  their 
proper  parts.  Sir  Douglas  Haig  is  fifty-four  years  of 
age.  Many  of  his  staff  are  greatly  his  junior.  They  are 
a  grave  and  serious  body  of  men  who  have  inspired  con- 
fidence from  one  end  of  the  line  to  the  other.  They  are 
not  dull,  there  is  plenty  of  familiar  badinage  at  the  proper 
time.    There  is  deep  devotion  and  loyalty  in  their  labours. 

It  is  said  that  most  of  them  have  aged  a  little  in  their 
ceaseless  round  of  work  and  anxiety,  but  they  are  all  at 
a  period  of  life  when  responsibility  can  best  be  borne. 
*'War,"  says  Sir  Douglas  Haig,  *'is  a  young  man's  game." 

A  soldier  who  had  fought  in  the  first  battle  of  Ypres 
spoke  to  me  of  the  Commander-in-Chief  as  follows : — 

It  was  just  when  the  Germans  had  broken  our 
line  and  little  parties  of  our  men  were  retreating. 
At  that  moment  Sir  Douglas  Haig,  then  command- 


SIR  DOUGLAS  HAIG  167 

ing  the  First  Corps,  came  along  the  Menin  road  with 
an  escort  of  his  own  17th  Lancers,  all  as  beautifully 
turned  out  as  in  peace  time.  They  approached 
slowly,  and  the  effect  upon  our  retreating  men  was 
instantaneous.  As  Sir  Douglas  advanced  they  gath- 
ered and  followed  him.  In  the  event  the  Worcesters 
attacked  Gheluvelt,  which  had  been  taken  by  the 
enemy,  drove  them  out,  and  restored  the  line.  The 
Commander-in-Chief's  presence  was,  and  is,  a  talis- 
man of  strength  to  his  armies. 

On  the  last  night  of  my  visit  to  this  little  company  I 
was  walking  with  one  of  his  circle  in  the  gardens,  watch- 
ing the  flashing  of  the  guns,  which  looked  like  summer 
lightning  flickering  continuously.  We  had  been  talking 
of  many  things  other  than  war,  though  the  war  was  never 
out  of  our  ears,  for  the  throbbing  was  perpetual.  It 
was  late,  for  the  warm  night  was  a  temptation  to  saunter- 
ing and  exchange  of  views. 

As  we  passed  through  the  hall  on  our  way  upstairs 
the  door  of  the  Commander-in-Chief's  room  was  open. 
We  paused  for  a  moment  to  watch  him  bending  over  the 
map  on  which  the  whole  world  is  gazing  to-day,  the  map 
which  he  is  slowly  and  surely  altering  for  the  benefit  of 
civilisation  and  the  generations  unborn.  He  was  about 
to  begin  his  nightly  vigil. 


JOFFRE 


MARSHAL  JOFFRE 

THE  CREATOR  OF  THE  FRENCH  GENERAL  STAFF 

From  the  newspaper  headlines  to  the  Man.  From  the 
hurrying  tide  of  early  morning  clerkdom  in  the  London 
streets  to  the  good-byes  of  the  morning  train  to  the 
front.  From  the  Red  Cross  stir  of  busy  Boulogne,  now 
become  our  greatest  hospital,  past  the  cheery  ranks  of 
the  newly-landed  Territorial  battalion,  singing  their  way 
up  one  of  the  rare  hills  of  old  Flanders.  A  rush  along  the 
long  straight  roads  of  Picardy  through  villages  packed 
with  waiting  Turcos,  Zouaves,  Lancers,  Artillerymen,  in 
French  blue  or  the  new  khaki,  to  the  strange  calm  of  the 
Grand  Quartier-General  of  the  French  Army. 

It  is  considered  indiscreet  to  indicate  the  General  Head- 
quarters of  an  army  in  these  days,  though  the  Germans  al- 
ways know  their  exact  location,  and  we  know  theirs. 
Suffice  it  to  say  that  the  General  Headquarters  of  the 
French  Army  are  at  a  spot  and  in  a  building  well  known 
to  English  people.  There  are  very  few  of  us  who  have 
seen  it  in  its  present  astonishing  quietude. 

The  pride  and  panoply  of  war  have  gone,  even  if  they 
ever  existed.  A  visit  to  General  Joffre,  save  for  the 
presence  of  one  or  two  orderlies  at  the  gate,  is  just  an 
ordinary  visit  at  an  ordinary  hotel.  Pere  Joffre,  who 
had  the  destinies  of  France  in  his  hands,  received  me  at 
the  appointed  hour  to  the  minute,  in  a  tiny  room  with  a 
long  narrow  table  covered  with  a  white  felt  top,  a  room 

171 


172        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

probably  sixteen  feet  long  by  twelve  wide,  perfectly  plain, 
which  most  likely  was  one  of  the  servants'  offices  in  the 
hotel  where  Headquarters  are  situated. 

When  I  re-visited  him  the  other  day  I  found  that  he 
had  exchanged  that  very  humble  apartment  for  one  rather 
more  suitable  to  the  needs  of  a  man  who  has  to  receive 
commissions  and  deputations  as  a  part  of  his  daily  rou- 
tine. It  is  even  yet  a  simple  milieu  for  the  head  of  one 
of  the  mightiest  forces  in  the  world.  I  emphasise  this 
fact  because  there  appears  to  be  some  sort  of  curious, 
all-prevailing  belief  in  the  public  mind  that  army  head- 
quarters are  abodes  of  luxury. 

The  Generalissimo  arrives  at  his  bureau  at  6.30  every 
morning,  and  at  7  he  has  a  conference  with  the  six  lead- 
ing officials  of  the  General  Staff,  or  Grand  :^tat  Major, 
and  his  two  aides,  both  generals,  and  three  other  officers. 
At  this  conference  all  the  reports  and  despatches  of  the 
night  are  gone  through  and  discussed,  and  orders  given 
for  the  day.  Lunch  is  served  always  at  11,  and  always 
consists  of  the  same  menu  of  eggs  and  cutlets,  after 
which,  at  12  o'clock,  there  is  another  conference.  At  i 
the  General  goes  out  till  4.  He  either  walks  or  drives, 
generally  in  the  adjacent  woods.  At  8.30  there  is  the 
third  conference,  attended  by  the  same  people,  and  at  9 
punctually,  no  matter  what  happens,  the  General  goes  to 
bed.  He  remains  all  the  time  at  his  Headquarters,  save 
once  a  week,  when  he  goes  to  the  front  to  inspect  the 
troops  or  to  see  generals.  A  very  efficient  telephone  serv- 
ice renders  more  frequent  departure  from  Headquarters 
unnecessary. 

His  methods  are  well  illustrated  by  his  procedure  at 
the  Battle  of  the  Mame.  All  the  orders  written  by  him- 
self were  already  drawn  up  on  August  27  for  the  action 
which  began  on  September  5.    He  pondered  them  all  out. 


MARSHAL  JOFFRE  173 

and  then  pieced  the  whole  battle  together  bit  by  bit, 
like  a  delicate  piece  of  mechanism  which,  when  the  time 
came,  ran  like  clockwork. 

His  great  work  in  the  French  Army  was  the  organisa- 
tion of  the  General  Stafif  when  he  became  Commandant- 
en-Chef  in  July,  191 1.  To  this  is  due  the  success  of  the 
French  armies  against  the  Germans,  for  the  staffs  were 
composed  of  men  who  had  worked  together  for  three 
years  and  are  employed  now  over  country  which  they 
know. 

Joffre  wears  a  pale  blue  varcuse  or  tunic,  of  ver}^  ample 
proportions,  no  decorations,  save  three  gold  stars  on  his 
arm  and  on  the  cuffs,  and  the  red  trousers  with  the  black 
stripe. 

As  that  great,  grey  head  rose  from  the  writing  table 
the  impression  of  the  man  upon  me  was  that  of  massive- 
ness.  Uniform  caps  of  whatever  nationality  have  the 
effect  of  making  men  look  more  or  less  alike.  The  great 
head  of  Joffre,  the  iron  chin,  the  kind,  rather  sad  eyes, 
are  quite  unlike  the  photographs  and  equally  unlike  our 
stupid  notion  of  what  we  call  "the  average  Frenchman." 
Fere  Joffre  is  from  Rivesaltes,  in  the  Pyrenees-Orientales, 
and  he  speaks  slowly,  and  v/ith  no  more  gesture  than  a 
Scotsman,  in  the  rich  accent  of  the  Midi. 

Joffre  has  emerged  as  one  of  the  great  personalities 
of  the  war.  Every  German  prisoner  captured  knows  the 
name  and  fame  of  "Shoffer."  Frequently  in  the  little 
messages  that  the  Germans  shoot  with  bows  and  arrows 
into  the  French  lines  is  the  remark,  "Ask  your  General 
Joffre  why  he  is  letting  you  Frenchmen  get  killed  for  the 
sake  of  the  English."  There  is  an  idea  always  floating 
in  the  German  mind,  from  the  highest  quarters  in  the 
Wilhelmstrasse  to  the  trenches  in  the  Woevre,  that  Ger- 
many will  be  able  to  effect  a  separate  peace  with  France. 


174*        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

Should  there  exist  in  that  deluded  nation  of  70  millions 
any  single  individual  with  a  knowledge  of  French  psy- 
chology, a  glance  at  Joffre  should  be  sufficient  to  teach 
him  otherwise. 

Often  in  years  back,  discussing  the  war  that  was  to  be, 
we  had  whispered,  "Yes,  but  will  the  French  produce  a 
man?'*  One  basic  fact  in  this  matter  is  that  the  French 
have  thrown  up  not  one  man  but  several. 

"How  is  he  bearing  the  war?"  people  asked  me  in 
Paris.  I  can  truly  say  that  General  Joffre  in  the  heat  of 
the  Battle  of  Verdun  looked  strong,  well,  and  cheerful. 
On  my  previous  visit  I  thought  he  was  showing  signs  of 
war  fatigue.  Now  in  the  midst  of  the  colossal  series  of 
battles  that  had  lasted  for  months,  the  head  of  the  won- 
derful French  war  machine  had  the  healthy  look  of  a 
country  squire  in  those  good  old  days,  four  years  ago, 
when  men  rode  to  hounds  a  couple  of  days  a  week. 


CADORNA 


COUNT  CADORNA 

HUMOROUS,  ADAMANT  AND  SUBTLE 

A  SHORT,  lithe,  quick-moving  man  of  sixty-six,  Gen- 
eral Cadorna  is  the  most  humorous  of  all  the  generals 
in  the  Great  War.  He  has  a  glitter  in  his  grey  eyes  that 
reminded  me  of  those  of  the  late  Pierpont  Morgan.  The 
resemblance  applies  also  to  the  character  of  the  two  men, 
for  Mr.  Morgan  was  ruthless  and  kind,  and  adamant,  too, 
when  necessary.  Those  are  the  characteristics  of  Italy's 
great  general,  liked,  feared,  and  respected  by  every  Ital- 
ian soldier  or  civilian  with  whom  I  conversed. 

The  Italian  and  British  armies  have  reached  their  per- 
fection along  very  similar  roads,  but  the  difficulties  of  the 
Italians  were  greater  than  ours.  We  were  unprepared, 
but  united;  Italy  w^as  unprepared  and  distracted  by  fac- 
tion. 

Among  those  who  accomplished  what  looked  like  the 
impossible — a  quickly  improvised  defence  of  Italy  against 
her  time-honoured  enemy,  Austria — Luigi  Cadorna  must 
be  given  first  place.  With  his  must  be  coupled  the  name 
of  his  King,  for  the  King  of  Italy  is  not  only  nominally 
but  really  the  head  of  the  Italian  Army,  and  Cadorna  is 
his  Chief  of  Staff.  The  Italian  monarch  is  so  modest 
and  self-effacing  that  he  is  comparatively  little  known  to 
his  own  people,  though  well  understood  by  his  soldiers, 
who  see  him  continually. 

He  and  Cadorna  share  an  advantage  not  given  to  most 

177 


178       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

of  us  in  Great  Britain.  They  have  been  close  to  the 
enemy  so  long  that  they  understand  the  enemy  psychology. 
It  surprised  the  rest  of  the  world  that  the  taking  of 
Gorizia  should  be  followed  by  an  attempt  to  bomb  St. 
Mark's  at  Venice.  It  surprised  us  that  the  Germans 
should  essay  to  offset  the  defeat  of  the  Marne  by  the  de- 
struction of  the  cathedral  at  Reims.  These  things  do 
not  astonish  the  Italians  and  the  French;  indeed,  they 
expect  them. 

As  one  travels  about  the  world  and  encounters  the  bus- 
iest people  in  it,  they  all  seem  to  share  the  same  charac- 
teristic. They  all  so  economise  their  time  that  they  Have 
moments  for  cigars  and  discourse.  That  was  so  with 
Mr.  Morgan.  (And  the  blackness  of  those  cigars!) 
That  is  so  with  Count  Cadorna.  He  gave  me  an  hour 
and  a  half  one  day,  in  which  he  did  all  the  interviewing, 
and  a  very  merry  luncheon  on  another  day  at  which  he 
kept  his  table  amused  all  the  time. 

His  quarters  are  at  Udine,  at  about  the  usual  distance 
of  most  headquarters  from  the  firing  line,  to  which  the 
great  captain  pays  visits  long  before  most  of  us  are 
awake. 

He  is  a  general  who  believes  in  seeing  for  himself. 
He  took  personal  part  in  the  direction  of  the  final  battle 
for  Gorizia,  climbing  the  ghastly  hill  of  Podgora  with  the 
vigour  of  an  Alpino.  He  is  a  close  student  of  war,  and  he 
has  all  the  subtlety  of  the  Italian.  In  the  long  story  of 
the  last  three  and  a  quarter  years  he  is  almost  the  only 
general  who  has  devised  a  surprise. 

Nearly  all  the  men  at  the  extreme  top  of  the  war  know 
something  about  the  whole  war.  That  is  not  the  case  with 
the  minor  personalities,  even  in  the  Higher  Command. 
Many  generals,  in  surveying  their  own  small  piece  of  the 
front,  think  the  whole  war  is  there,  and  judge  its  success 


COUNT  CADORNA  179 

or  duration  by  their  own  little  piece  of  landscape.  It  is 
they  who,  when  on  leave,  tell  us  cheerfully  that  the  war 
is  nearly  over,  or  gloomily  that  the  Boche  line  is  impene- 
trable. Their  words  are  whispered  far  and  wide,  and 
are  part  of  the  cause  of  the  rumours  and  counter  rumours 
of  the  clubs  and  dinner  tables. 

Cadorna  knows  the  size  of  the  war  as  accurately  as 
Joffre  or  Haig.  He  knows  about  things  with  which  the 
average  soldier  does  not  concern  himself,  such  as  the 
effect  of  German  propaganda  in  the  United  States  and 
the  value  of  a  counter  effort  over  there  that  could  be  put 
forth  by  the  Italians  resident  in  that  country.  He  knows 
that  the  Battle  of  the  Somme  is  part  of  the  Battle  of  the 
Carso.  He  is  a  statesman,  too,  as  well  as  a  soldier,  and 
like  all  Italians,  happy  to  be  in  alliance  with  us.  His 
communiques  are  meticulously  accurate. 

It  seems  strange  to  us  that  a  boy  should  begin  to  learn 
soldiering  at  ten,  but  that  is  what  Cadorna  did,  for  in 
i860  he  went  to  the  Military  School  at  Milan,  where  he 
was  sent  by  his  distinguished  father.  Count  Raffaele  Ca^ 
dorna,  who  had  married  Countess  Clementina  Zoppi — 
names  of  note  in  Italian  history. 

At  fifteen  he  proceeded  to  the  Military  Academy  at 
Turin.  At  the  age  of  forty- two  he  had  attained  the  rank 
of  Colonel  in  command  of  the  loth  Bersaglieri.  For 
some  years  afterwards  he  was  engaged  on  his  famous 
"Manual  of  Tactics,"  which  has  been  reprinted  again  and 
again  during  the  war,  with  very  little  alteration  from  the 
original  edition. 

Cadorna  sets  his  face  against  personal  or  family  fa- 
vouritism. It  is  in  the  blood.  In  1870  he  had  become 
his  father's  A.D.C.,  but  as  soon  as  there  was  active  work 
to  do,  the  elder  Cadorna  was  given  the  command  of  the 
troops  which  entered  Rome  in  the  War  of  Liberation,. 


180        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

and  he  then  dispensed  with  his  son's  services.  Last  year 
the  present  General  Cadorna  had  his  son  Raffaele  as  one 
of  his  A.D.C.'s,  and  following  the  family  example,  he 
sent  the  boy  back  to  his  regiment  directly  Italy  entered 
the  lists. 

With  His  Excellency  General  Cadorna  (to  give  him 
his  ItaHan  prefix)  is  General  Porro,  and  along  the  whole 
of  the  Italian  front  are  generals  who  have  arrived  at 
their  position  by  the  ruthless  process  of  elimination  nec- 
essary to  success  in  war.  Some  of  the  earlier  generals 
made  mistakes  and  are  gone,  as  with  our  army.  War  is 
just  what  it  always  was,  and  victory  is  for  those  who 
make  the  fewest  mistakes. 

One  conviction  one  had  in  bidding  farewell  to  that 
determined-looking  Italian,  Luigi  Cadorna,  w^as  that 
though  genial  and  full  of  amusing  anecdote,  he  will  not 
suffer  fools  gladly.  His  telegrams  of  praise  and  repri- 
mand, some  of  which  I  saw  on  my  visits  to  the  various 
fronts,  were  models  of  terseness,  written  frankly,  almost 
brutally  indeed — as  a  soldier  should  write. 


THE  BRITISH  SOLDIERS  IN  FRANCE 


THE  BRITISH  SOLDIERS  IN  FRANCE 

I  HAVE  not  seen  any  description  of  the  arrival  of  our 
dear  soldier  boys,  many  of  whom  have  never  before  left 
England,  in  the  country  which  is  the  destination,  for  good 
or  for  ill,  of  the  majority  of  those  who  leave  England 
on  the  Great  Adventure.  Quite  by  chance  I  have  on  two 
occasions  witnessed  the  landing  abroad  of  a  great  number 
of  them. 

At  three  o'clock  one  morning,  in  a  certain  French  town, 
I  was  awakened  by  the  sound  of  an  English  bugle  call. 
Throwing  open  the  window  I  looked  out,  and  there,  in  the 
glare  of  tall  arc  lights,  had  assembled,  as  if  by  magic,  a 
great  company  of  English  soldiers  who  had  just  landed. 
I  could  hear  the  roll  being  called.  In  a  few  minutes  the 
transport  in  which  they  had  come  had  steamed  away,  and 
the  thousand  or  so  young  Britons  had  passed  from  the 
harbour  and  were  on  their  way  to  their  fate.  The  great 
lamps  were  extinguished,  they  were  gone,  and  the  whole 
thing  seemed  like  a  dream.  It  was  a  scene  queer  and 
mysterious,  and  w^as  not  witnessed  by  any  but  a  few  dock 
workers  and  myself. 

I  had  forgotten  the  incident  until,  the  other  day  at 
Boulogne,  I  saw,  by  day,  the  arrival  of  another  trans- 
port's load.  I  determined  to  watch  our  boys  and  their 
demeanour  on  reaching  a  strange  country  that  was  to  be 
for  them  so  full  of  romance  and  adventure.  Bright, 
fresh  lads,  their  English  faces  looked  so  red  beside  those 
of  our  darker  Allies. 

So  few  hours  had  elapsed  since  they  had  left  Eng- 

183 


184        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

land  that  many  of  them  still  wore  the  flowers  their  sweet- 
hearts had  given  them  on  leaving.  They  looked  about 
earnestly  and  curiously;  their  officers,  a  little  nervous  I 
thought,  were  marshalling  them  for  the  roll-call,  some- 
what anxious  as  to  what  the  busy  townspeople,  hurrying 
to  their  midday  dejeuner,  would  think ;  the  French  present 
took  very  little  notice,  for  they  had  witnessed  this  scene 
every  day  for  months.  Women  went  among  the  soldiers 
selling  oranges  and  cigarettes,  and  there  was  a  little  chaf- 
fing between  the  French  girls  and  the  "Tommies,"  in 
which  the  girls  did  most  of  the  badinage.  Soon  they 
passed,  as  I  had  seen  the  others  do  at  night,  on  their  way 
to  a  rest  camp,  whence  they  will  spread  all  over  North- 
em  France,  so  that  eventually  one  finds  them  in  the  most 
unexpected  places. 

I  have  seen  them  working  great  barges,  running  trains 
and  steamboats,  digging  trenches,  building  bridges,  mak- 
ing roads  and  railways,  erecting  huts,  and  always  neat 
and  spruce. 

The  faces  of  our  soldiers,  unlike  those  of  the  Ger- 
mans, are  full  of  individuality.  Our  boys  have  their  own 
ways  of  doing  things,  and  while  they  are  the  finest  troops 
in  the  world  for  trench  fighting,  being  immovable  (and 
ferocious!  as  German  prisoners  have  told  me  on  more 
than  one  occasion),  they  have  their  own  peculiarities  in 
regard  to  their  food  and  their  living. 

One  of  the  good  qualities  that  particularly  distin- 
guish the  British  soldier  from  any  other  is  his  insistence 
upon  smartness.  Our  *'Tommy"  has  his  own  walk  and 
his  own  way  of  wearing  his  clothes,  so  distinctive  that 
one  can  distinguish  him  on  the  skyline  in  a  country  where 
English,  French,  and  Belgians  are  working  together. 

One  day  I  luckily  had  the  interesting  experience  of 
seeing  the  depots  of  part  of  the  English  Army,  part  of 


THE  BRITISH  SOLDIERS  IN  FRANCE     185 

the  French  Army,  and  part  of  the  Belgian  Army.  The 
contrast' was  interesting.  'Tommy''  is  certainly  an  epi- 
cure, and  he  is  right,  for  nothing  we  can  give  and  noth- 
ing we  can  do  can  be  too  good  for  our  boys.  For  his  en- 
joyment we  export  supplies  which,  stacked  in  boxes,  torm 
veritable  walls  of  dates,  jam,  pickled  walnuts,  chutney, 
and  pepper,  not  to  mention  bacon,  bully  beef,  butter,  and 
cheese.  The  French  soldier  is  a  better  cook  than 
"Tommy,"  and  he  manages  with  much  less  meat,  but  has 
a  great  deal  more  bread,  much  more  soup  (which  he 
makes  from  bread,  leeks,  and  meat),  an  occasional 
chicken,  when  he  can  get  it,  coffee,  and  a  little  red  wine. 

The  Italian  has,  as  I  have  told  in  another  chapter,  a 
most  varied  diet,  nourishing  soup,  two  pounds  of  bread 
and  half  a  pound  of  meat  a  day,  half  a  pint  of  red  wine, 
macaroni  of  various  kinds,  rice,  cheese,  fresh  and  dried 
fruit,  chocolate,  and  in  the  mountains  brandy  or  Mar- 
sala thrice  a  week. 

The  Belgian  soldier  insists  on  immense  quantities  of 
potatoes,  with  soup,  cheese,  bread  and  butter,  and  meat. 

Our  Army  is  perfectly  fed  according  to  the  demands 
of  its  own  men. 

There  never  has  been  an  army  so  well  cared  for.  Take 
the  Y.M.C.A.  huts  alone.  They  are  to  be  found  every- 
where in  the  most  unlikely  places,  and  are  not,  as  some 
people  seem  to  think,  centres  for  the  dissemination  of 
cant  and  tracts,  but  bright  and  attractive  clubs,  where,  at 
the  minimum  price,  soldiers  can,  if  they  wish,  add  to  the 
good  things  provided  by  grateful  John  Bull.  Not  only 
are  there  Y.M.C.A,  huts,  but  there  are  also  those  of  the 
Church  and  Salvation  Armies,  and  private  efforts  in  ad- 
dition. 

As  for  hospital  care,  the  Royal  Army  Medical  Corps, 
the  British  Red  Cross  Society,  the  Canadian  and  Aus- 


186        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

tralian  Red  Cross,  and  the  Order  of  St.  John  of  Jeru- 
salem, with  independent  bodies,  such  as  the  Society  of 
Friends  and  the  American  Ambulance,  have  produced  or- 
ganisations at  whose  perfection  I  stand  and  marvel. 

Much  of  it  has  been  made  possible  by  public  generos- 
ity at  home,  much  of  it  by  Government  foresight  and  wis- 
dom, much  of  it  by  great  self-sacrifice  on  the  part  of 
workers.  I  have  seen  him  who  is  said  to  be  the  world's 
greatest  surgeon  acting  as  his  own  dresser  in  a  hospital 
for  privates.  I  saw  the  King's  own  doctor  the  other 
day  helping  in  one  of  the  great  hospitals  at  Wimereux. 
One  often  hears  it  said  that  had  the  military  part  of  the 
war  been  conducted  with  the  vigour  and  prevision  that 
have  prevailed  in  the  xA.rmy  Service  Corps,  the  R.A.M.C., 
and  the  British  Red  Cross  Society;  had  the  munitions, 
big  howitzers,  and  machine  guns  been  thought  of  as 
quickly  as  the  hospitals  and  the  transport,  the  Germans 
would  have  long  ago  been  driven  over  the  Rhine. 

One  sometimes  feels  that  while  everything  has  been 
done  for  "Tommy,"  not  enough  has  been  done  for  the 
young  officers.  Their  case  will  require  more  attention 
before  the  war  is  over.  Their  pay  and  allowances  are 
grossly  insufficient  Going  to  and  from  the  front  they 
often  have  to  stop  at  expensive  hotels,  and  in  war  time 
everything,  of  course,  is  necessarily  high  in  price.  I  was 
delighted  to  come  across  something  new  at  Boulogne  in 
the  shape  of  an  officers'  club  founded  by  Lady  Dudley, 
which  is  exactly  what  is  required  for  the  happiness  and 
comfort  of  officers,  to  whom,  after  the  mud,  toil,  and 
danger  of  the  trenches,  the  place  must  seem  a  veritable 
haven.  This  idea  has  been  extended  to  other  bases  and 
centres.  The  officer  has  no  Y.M.C.A.  hut,  and  is  often 
lonely  in  his  comings  and  goings  in  a  strange  land.    Lady 


THE  BRITISH  SOLDIERS  IN  FRANCE     187 

Dudley's  kindly  thought  and  industry  in  this  matter  and 
her  provision  of  much  English  comfort  for  the  club  re- 
mind me  that  a  great  many  of  the  enthusiastic  ladies  who 
volunteered  their  help  at  the  beginning  of  the  v^ar  have 
found  the  work  harder  than  they  thought,  and  in  some 
cases  much  too  onerous  for  health. 

Yet  there  are  many  British,  Canadian,  and  Australian 
women  doing  all  sorts  of  voluntary  work  behind  the  front 
which  should,  if  only  as  an  example,  be  better  known  than 
it  is.  Does  one  ever  think  of  the  fatigue  of  nurses,  of 
the  terrific  strain  many  of  them  endure  at  times  when 
fighting  is  active?  Many  of  these  overworked  ladies  do 
not  get  the  rest  that  is  needed.  Lady  Gifford  manages  the 
beautiful  home  given  by  Princess  Louise  in  the  woods  of 
Hardelot,  now  yellow  with  wild  daffodils.  She  told  me 
that  sometimes  the  sisters  cannot  get  the  sound  of  the 
guns  out  of  their  ears  for  days,  and  I  can  imagine  that 
Hardelot,  with  its  beautiful  sands  and  its  golf  course,  is 
a  paradise  after  life  in  a  hospital  near  the  fighting  line. 

I  have  had  little  talks  with  some  hundreds  of  our  sol- 
diers during  the  war,  and  in  regard  to  care  and  comfort 
and  nursing,  diet  and  clothes,  the  provision  for  reading 
and  smoking,  I  have  never  heard  a  single  complaint.  The 
health  of  all  is  wonderful.  The  meeting  of  Scotsman  and 
Southerner,  Londoner  and  Provincial,  Irishman  and  Eng- 
lishman is  bringing  about  an  interchange  of  thought  that 
will  materially  alter  British  politics  as  soon  as  the  boys 
return  home.  There  are  the  Canadians,  too,  with  their 
independent  thinking  and  initiative.  Now  that  the  Aus- 
tralians and  New  Zealanders  have  come  there  will  be  a 
veritable  formation,  in  France,  of  an  indissoluble  bond 
of  Empire  which,  I  do  not  doubt,  will  have  vast  influence 
on  the  future  of  the  world's  history. 


THE  NEW  LITTLE  BELGIAN  ARMY 


THE  NEW  LITTLE  BELGIAN  ARMY 

Headquarters  of  the  Belgiun  Army, 

March,  191 6. 

The  little  army  that  first  arrested  the  rush  of  the  Huns, 
the  army  that  gave  the  Allies  invaluable  breathing  time, 
has  been  fighting  longer  than  any  of  us. 

And  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  the  world's  debt  to 
Belgium  has  increased  steadily  since  those  hectic  hours 
at  Liege  and  Antwerp.  The  United  States  recognises 
its  share  in  the  work  for  civilisation  by  helping  to  feed 
the  six  millions  of  Belgians  who  are  holding  themselves 
so  proudly  while  under  the  immediate  domination  of  the 
tyrant. 

I  had  been  with  the  Belgian  Army  soon  after  its  long 
series  of  rearguard  actions.  It  was  then  suffering  from 
its  great  losses;  it  was  war  weary,  and  it  needed  sleep 
and  equipment.     It  had  never  lost  heart  or  discipline. 

To-day  it  is  the  same  army,  but  renewed.  It  has  no 
great  reserves  to  fall  back  upon,  because  the  greater  part 
of  the  nation  is  imprisoned.  The  wise  men  who  admin- 
ister it  under  the  affectionate  care  of  the  King  have, 
therefore,  while  getting  into  the  ranks  every  possible 
available  Belgian  of  military  age,  wherever  he  may  be, 
devoted  themselves  to  the  work  of  refitting  and  reorgan- 
ising.    The  result  is  a  perfect  little  army. 

Belgium  is  above  all  things  fortunate  in  having  a  man. 
For  beyond  question  one  of  the  most  vital  of  all  the 
forces  among  the  Allies  is  the  Belgian  Minister  of  War, 

191 


192        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

Baron  de  Broqueville.  For  years  before  the  outbreak 
of  hostilities  The  Times  had  consistently  called  attention 
to  de  Broqueville's  work  and  warnings.  Except  for  those 
warnings  Belgium  would  not  have  been  in  a  position  to 
offer  the  resistance  it  did  to  the  Monster.  De  Bro- 
queville is  fifty- three  and  looks  younger — though  I  no- 
tice the  war  has  not  left  him  unmarked  since  our  last 
meeting.  He  is  as  alive  as  our  Mr.  Hughes,  and  it  is 
remarkable  that  the  views  of  the  two  men  are  alike. 

When  I  arrived  at  the  house,  within  hearing  of  the 
guns,  in  which  he  spends  alternate  weeks  between  his 
visits  to  Havre,  his  secretary,  the  young  Comte  de 
Lichtervelde,  had  just  finished  reading  to  him  one  of  Mr. 
Hughes's  speeches.  Monsieur  de  Lichtervelde,  who 
knows  England  and  the  United  States  very  well  indeed, 
makes  it  his  duty,  as  part  of  his  secretarial  work,  to  keep 
his  chief  well  informed  in  world  happenings.  A  courier 
each  afternoon  brings  that  same  morning's  Times. 

M.  de  Broqueville,  who  is  as  good-looking  and  well- 
groomed  as  he  is  alert,  discussed  the  whole  of  the  Euro- 
pean and  world  situation  incisively,  frankly,  and  with  a 
vigour  and  directness  most  refreshing  to  one  whose  mis- 
fortune it  is  to  dwell  within  reach  of  the  miasmic  ex- 
halations of  the  Upas  Tree  of  Westminster.  Some  of 
our  Germanophils  twit  Mr.  Hughes  with  not  being  an 
expert  on  Germany.  That  charge  cannot  be  brought 
against  M.  de  Broqueville,  whose  country  knows,  alas! 
too  much  of  peaceful  penetration  by  commerce,  capture 
of  public  opinion  by  subsidisation,  and  political,  educa- 
tional, artistic,  and  musical  espionage.  And  so  Mr. 
Hughes  from  Australia  and  the  Baron  de  Broqueville 
from  Brussels  agree  exactly  as  to  the  Huns.  Like  all 
Belgians  of  the  ruling  class,  de  Broqueville  is  deeply 
grateful  for  British  help,  and  is  a  warm  admirer  of  the 


THE  NEW  LITTLE  BELGIAN  ARMY      193 

steady  improvement  in  our  Army.     But  I  had  not  come 

to  to  discuss  politics  or  to  receive  compliments. 

My  desire  was  to  revisit  the  soldiers  with  whom  I  had 
sojourned  after  their  bloodily-contested  retreat  against 
overwhelming  forces. 

So  after  gaining  a  great  deal  of  extremely  interesting 
information  which  I  do  not  propose  to  present  to  the 
Germans,  and  enquiring  after  Mme.  de  Broqueville,  who 
has  remained  courageously  at  Brussiels  while  her  hus- 
band takes  charge  of  his  King's  Government,  I  made 
my  way  by  road  to  the  enchanting  little  sixteenth-century 
scene  where  the  brain  of  the  Belgian  Army  is  installed. 

Army  headquarters  are  very  much  the  same  every- 
where, save  as  to  their  situation.  General  Wielemans, 
who  is  Chief  of  Staff  of  his  Majesty  the  King,  the  Com- 
mander-in-Chief, has  very  capable  advisers  in  General 
Biebuyck,  Aide-de-Camp  to  the  King,  and  General 
D'Orjo,  M.  de  Broqueville's  Chef  de  Cabinet.  General 
Wielemans,  who  speaks  English  and  knows  England  well, 
asked  me  what  I  should  particularly  like  to  see,  and  ar- 
ranged that  the  next  day  I  should  be  taken  along  the  Bel- 
gian trenches  by  Colonel  Detail,  under  Chief  of  Staff. 

Though  the  shortest  of  the  lines  held  by  the  Allies,  the 
Belgian  line  is,  in  proportion  to  the  free  Belgian  popula- 
tion, much  the  longest.  It  occupies  a  difficult  and  ex- 
tremely uncomfortable  position,  for  in  no  part  of  the 
war  zone  is  the  mud  of  Flanders  blacker  and  deeper  than 
in  the  Belgian  trenches. 

I  told  General  Wielemans  that  what  the  English  pub- 
lic would  be  interested  to  learn  something  about  is  the 
very  efficient  Belgian  artillery  which  has  rendered  so  ex- 
cellent an  account  of  itself.  It  is  no  secret  that  Belgian 
preparations  were  not  such  as  Baron  de  Broqueville  had 
for  years  urged,  but  in  the  matter  of  artillery  the  gallant 


194       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

little  army  had  acquired  great  proficiency,  doubtless  partly 
by  reason  of  its  association  with  those  masters  of  the 
gun,  the  French.  That  the  Belgians  are  well  equipped 
with  great  cannon,  big  howitzers,  75's,  and  machine-guns, 
and  that  every  gun  has  a  plentiful  supply  of  shells  of 
every  description  is  abundantly  well  known  to  Hans  and 
Fritz  on  the  other  side  of  the  inundations  and  elsewhere 
along  the  Belgian  front. 

I  asked  General  Wielemans  if  he  would  allow  me  to 
take  a  quiet  and  unobtrusive  seat  in  one  of  his  batteries 
during  such  time  as  an  artillery  duel  was  timed  to  rage 
vigorously.  He  readily  assented,  and  I  was  taken  by  M. 
de  Lichtervelde  and  Colonel  Detail  to  Lieutenant  General 
de  Ceunink,  who,  with  Major-General  Orth,  after  some 
consultation,  found  me  at  a  considerable  distance  a  par- 
ticularly lively  young  artillery  officer,  whose  four  *'pets,'* 
as  he  called  them  in  English,  were  timed  to  perform  that 
afternoon. 

Our  way  lay  through  ruined  sixteenth-century  Flem- 
ish villages,  where  the  churches  in  almost  every  case  had 
been  shelled  to  fragments  and  where  also  in  almost  every 
case  the  carved  wooden  Christ  (often  as  not  of  the  fer- 
vent Spanish  type  dating  from  Spanish  times)  remained, 
as  by  some  miracle,  untouched. 

I  was  long  loth  to  believe  that  the  Germans  selected 
churches  as  artillery  objectives,  but  personal  examina- 
tion of  more  than  100  shelled  towns  proves  it.  And 
with  the  churches  usually  goes  the  churchyard;  open 
coffins,  shrouded  corpses,  and  grinning  skulls  show  that 
the  modern  Prussian  takes  as  much  pleasure  in  revealing 
the  secrets  of  the  grave  as  he  does  in  the  destruction  of 
his  enemy's  wife  and  child. 

In  one  of  the  small  ruined  towns  we  visited,  three 
hundred  of  the  population  still  remained,  and  will  not 


THE  NEW  LITTLE  BELGIAN  ARjVIY      195 

leave.  An  old,  old  man  was  bending  over  a  little  garden, 
a  lusty  young  woman  was  scrubbing  at  a  tub  while  her 
little  son  was  playing  with  shell  fragments.  The  whole 
district,  ever}^  street  and  open  place,  was  a  series  of  gi- 
gantic trous  de  nmrmites  (shell  holes),  filled  with  water, 
in  one  of  which  a  couple  of  little  people  were  sailing  a 
paper  boat.  There  were  no  guns  or  anything  military 
whatever  in  the  town,  but  it  was  being  bombarded  pe- 
riodically by  Germans,  probably  in  reply  to  dexterous 
British  artillery  work  at  Ypres. 

It  is  a  thousand  pities  that  expert  kinematograph 
operators  are  not  sent  to  these  places  to  prove  to  the 
world  that  German  warfare,  especially  in  these  later  days 
of  the  conflict,  is  at  least  as  much  directed  against  the 
civil  population  as  against  the  military.  French  gunners 
score  a  success  in  Champagne,  and,  in  reply,  the  Germans 
throw  asphyxiating  shells  into  Reims,  and  so  on  in  all 
the  theatres  of  war. 

I  do  not  propose  to  give  the  least  indication  of  the 
situation  of  the  battery  with  which  I  spent  some  very 
interesting  hours.  The  Huns  have  never  found  it,  nor, 
indeed,  any  of  the  French  or  Belgian  batteries  I  have 
entered.  For  the  detective  powers  of  the  aeroplane  ob- 
server have  been  countered  by  extraordinary  ingenuity  in 
concealment  on  the  part  of  artillerymen. 

There  was  the  usual  dog  attached  to  it,  some  sort  of 
mongrel  that  always  seems  to  like  to  be  with  men  in 
dangerous  places.  By  an  ingenious  arrangement  of 
barbed  wire  a  nice  large  cage  of  starlings,  finches,  and 
sparrows,  who  did  not  in  the  least  mind  the  guns,  had 
been  arranged;  they  were  hopping  merrily  and  eating 
well.  A  spring  garden  with  crocuses  and  primroses  had 
been  planted. 
-    The  dug-outs  had  all  sorts  of  amusing  names;  one  was 


196        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

called  'The  Virtuous  Repose,"  and  another,  in  English, 
"Home,  Sweet  Home."  The  captain  in  charge  of  the 
battery,  who  had  been  alongside  and  among  the  English 
in  the  early  stages  of  the  war  and  had  picked  up  a  good 
deal  of  English,  which,  like  most  Belgians,  he  liked  to 
exercise,  speedily  explained  the  system  on  which  he 
worked  his  75's,  for  each  of  which  he  had  a  pet  name. 
He  showed  me  his  map,  with  frequent  aeroplane  correc- 
tions in  red  ink,  of  the  enemy's  position  in  front  of 
him.  He  demonstrated  the  extreme  facility  of  the  ele- 
vating and  deflecting  apparatus  of  his  four  favourites. 
He  had  not  yet  received  his  instructions  as  to  what  was 
to  be  the  programme  of  his  day's  work.  They  would 
come  by  telephone  from  certain  Headquarters.  Mean- 
while, I  might  like  to  go  down  into  his  "wine  cellar"  and 
see  the  excellent  array  of  "bottles,"  as  he  called  them. 

We  bent  low  and  went  deep,  deep  into  the  earth,  and 
his  electric  torch  revealed  a  fine  display  of  shells.  Some 
had  been  made  in  England.  There  were  several  types 
of  shells  and  several  kinds  of  fuzes.  "Very  good  bot- 
tles indeed,  heinf"  he  said  in  broken  English. 

We  came  above  ground  again  and  listened  to  the  va- 
rious forms  of  artillery  that  were  to  be  heard  around 
us.  "Those,"  he  said,  asking  me  to  listen  to  a  continu- 
ous series  of  salvoes,  "are  your  Englishmen.  Plenty 
shells  now."  Miles  aw^ay  there  was  the  deep  roar  of 
something  big,  reminding  me  of  the  voices  of  Verdun. 
"That,"  he  remarked,  "is  Belgian  howitzer."  The  men 
were  smoking  and  waiting  about,  taking  no  notice  what- 
ever of  the  occasional  burstings  of  German  messages 
that  threw  up  great  clouds  of  mud. 

Suddenly  there  came  the  ring  of  the  telephone  bell, 
taking  one  for  the  moment  quickly  back  to  London,  but 


THE  NEW  LITTLE  BELGIAN  ARMY       197 

carrying  a  very  different  message  from  that  which  one 
receives  in  one's  office. 

Instantaneously  the  men  sprang  down  to  their  guns, 
and  then  I  saw  the  marvellous  working  of  these  75's, 
whose  sharp  bang,  bang  I  have  heard  at  so  many  points  at 
the  front.  A  quick  order  was  shouted  as  to  the  direc- 
tion and  elevation,  there  was  a  slight  pause,  the  little 
chamber  and  its  Rembrandt-like  faces  were  lit  up  for 
a  moment  as  by  the  flame  of  a  smithy,  a  roar  came  that 
was  gentle  after  the  earth-shaking  at  Verdun,  and  then 
silence  till,  kilometres  away,  we  heard  our  shells  bursting. 

The  gunners  were  waiting  to  hear  the  telephone  report 
from  the  observer.  Within  a  few  seconds  it  was  re- 
ceived— "Too  short." 

Another  try.     "Too  far'*  came  the  verdict. 

At  the  third  shot  came  the  report,  "A  hit,"  and  then 
was  revealed  to  me  the  magic  of  the  75. 

The  gun  recoils  so  quickly  that  it  can  be  stoked  with 
shells  and  fired,  in  the  hands  of  really  trained  gunners, 
with  a  speed  most  extraordinary  to  watch. 

I  remember  well  the  first  time  that  I  saw  a  cannon 
fired  in  war.  I  did  so  with  reluctance,  not  wishing  to 
participate  even  by  observation  in  the  sending  forth  of 
that  which  would  destroy  life,  or  wound.  But  the  spec- 
tacle of  these  smashed  towns  and  babies'  graves  in  France 
and  Belgium  has  removed  any  sentimental  nonsense  of 
that  kind  from  my  conception  of  war,  and  so,  knowing 
that  these  Belgian  gunners  were  helping  to  weary  and 
destroy  the  moral  of  an  army  that  did  not  disdain  to 
initiate  gas  poisoning,  and  the  throwing  of  flame  and 
even  vitriol,  I  confess  to  enthusiastic  rejoicing  at  this 
remarkable  little  organisation  that  is  only  one  of  hun- 
dreds the  Belgians  possess. 

A  good  artillery  battle  reminds  one  very  much  of  a 


198        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

quick  lawn-tennis  volley,  and  in  this  matter  of  artillery 
reply  the  Latins  certainly  are  speedier  than  the  Huns. 

A  signal  presently  brought  the  order  to  cease  fire  from 
this  particular  battery,  and  immediately  afterwards  a 
little  further  down  the  line  other  voices  spoke. 

We  made  our  w^ay  back  through  the  mud  to  a  dis- 
tant highway,  and  then  a  long  walk  brought  us  to  our 
motor,  which  was  sheltered  behind  one  of  the  few  walls 
still  remaining  in  that  district. 

At  a  very  pleasant  and  simple  Headquarters  repast, 
Verdun,  the  English  Fleet,  and  the  latest  wireless  were 
discussed,  and  then  every  one  went  about  his  business. 
Army  Headquarters  have  settled  down  to  the  regulation 
and  prompt  routine  of  all  efficient  business  organisations. 
The  improved  Belgian  Army,  as  regards  the  higher  com- 
mand, efficiency,  equipment,  cavalry,  infantry,  artillery, 
and  transport  is,  like  our  own,  the  creation  of  nearly 
nineteen  months  of  war,  and  it  is  said  that  war  is  the  best 
school  for  war. 

Nor  are  the  medical  arrangements  of  the  Army  neg- 
lected. Inspector-General  Melis,  who  is  well  known  in 
England,  and  is  a  hard-headed,  practical  man,  had  to 
deal  with  almost  insuperable  difficulties  when  the  Ger- 
mans seized  practically  the  whole  of  the  Belgian  Red 
Cross  materiel  in  their  advance.  He  has  excellent  hos- 
pitals at  various  points  that  need  not  be  mentioned,  lest 
they  tempt  Hun  gunners  unduly.  There  is  one  little  Eng- 
lish hospital  which  I  must  not  forget — the  Belgian  Field 
Hospital.  Its  windows  rattle  night  and  day  with  the 
vibration  of  the  guns.  Its  career  has  been  one  of  ad- 
venture, for  it  began  life  at  Antwerp  in  September,  1914. 

On  the  night  I  paid  my  respects  the  Belgian  Field  Hos- 
pital was  quite  full.  I  found  an  excellent  Scotch  doctor 
and  matron,  and  a  number  of  devoted  nurses,  who  have 


THE  NEW  LITTLE  BELGIAN  AKIVIY      199 

been  with  it  since  the  day  it  started  travelling  across 
Belgium,  during  the  time  it  was  shelled  out  of  Furnes, 
where  I  had  seen  it  before,  and  throughout  all  its  vicissi- 
tudes. The  whole  establishment  is  ready,  if  necessary,  at 
any  moment  to  move  again. 

Among  the  patients  that  day  were  a  number  who  were 
desperately  wounded  by  a  very  common  form  of  accident. 
Souvenir  rings  from  the  trenches  are  being  sought  for 
all  over  the  world.  They  are  made  of  aluminum  ob- 
tained from  the  German  fuzes,  and  unexploded  fuzes 
are  the  cause  of  numerous  fatalities. 

In  every  ward  of  this  hospital,  in  every  Belgian  dug- 
out, in  every  room  I  entered  in  the  little  part  of  Belgium 
that  is  now  in  Belgian  hands,  and  on  the  table  of  the  Min- 
ister of  War  and  his  General,  are  pictures  of  the  heroic 
King  and  Queen,  who  are  known  by  sight  to  every  sol- 
dier in  the  army,  and  to  whom  the  whole  of  this  very 
efficient  Belgian  force  is  deeply  devoted. 


I 


WARPLANES 


WARPLANES 


SOME   OF   THE   TYPES 


Like  the  modern  machine-gun,  and  other  war  develop- 
ments, the  aeroplane  began  in  the  United  States.  The 
two  brothers  Wright,  of  Dayton,  Ohio,  were  the  men 
who  revolutionised  the  business  of  war.  I  have  often 
wondered  if  in  the  Wrights'  early  experiments  at  Kitty- 
hawk,  N.  Carolina,  they  realised  to  the  full  the  tre- 
mendous weapon  they  were  placing  in  the  hands  of  the 
modern  artilleryman. 

I  knew  Wilbur  Wright  and  saw  some  of  the  begin- 
nings of  aviation.  Orville,  the  remaining  brother,  has 
behaved  with  great  generosity  to  us  in  the  disposal  of 
the  British  patents.  We  have  as  yet  accorded  no  na- 
tional recognition  to  the  Wrights,  excepting  the  Albert 
medal  of  the  Royal  Society  of  Arts,  which  I  had  the 
great  pleasure  of  presenting. 

There  are  four  purposes  in  the  war  to  which  the  in- 
vention of  those  modest  inventors  has  been  put,  and 
each  purpose  is  in  itself  a  revolutionary  change  in  war- 
fare. On  the  whole  I  should  say  that  the  direction  of 
artillery  fire  is  the  chief  result  as  yet  attained  by  the  use 
of  the  Wrights'  invention.  Artillery  work  has,  of  course, 
produced  by  far  the  greatest  amount  of  damage  on  land 
since  the  war  began.  Without  the  aeroplane  big  guns 
would  be  of  little  use  except  against  objects  visible  to 
the  artilleryman.     With  the  aeroplane,  from  which  sig- 

203 


204        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

nals  can  be  made  either  by  wireless  or  by  day-time  electric 
heliographs,  the  artilleryman  soon  learns  his  errors,  and, 
owing  to  the  precision  of  modern  weapons,  can  follow 
with  amazing  sureness  the  advice  of  the  aeroplane  ob- 
server. 

The  type  of  machine  used  for  observing,  like  all  the 
latest  patterns  of  warplanes,  is  now  armoured  with  steel 
in  its  most  vulnerable  parts  and  provided  with  a  machine- 
gun  in  case  it  should  be  attacked.  These  observing  aero- 
planes should  be  able,  as  far  as  is  yet  possible,  to  hover 
in  the  air  in  order  that  the  man  with  the  telescope  who 
sits  in  front  or  behind  the  pilot  may  be  able  to  see  as  ac- 
curately as  possible  where  the  shells  are  falling.  But  the 
observing  aeroplane  has  to  be  sufficiently  rapid  to  escape 
the  fighting  plane  that  will  most  certainly  be  sent  up  after 
it  as  speedily  as  it  is  discovered. 

A  second  type  comprises  the  fighting  planes. 

These  should  be  armed  as  heavily  as  possible,  and  it 
is  no  secret  that  the  French  are  putting  quite  large  cannon 
in  aeroplanes.  They  may  be  managed  by  one,  two  or 
three  men,  and  in  certain  types  each  of  the  men  can  be  a 
combatant.  In  this  matter  of  adapting  aeroplanes  to 
air-fighting  the  French,  who  speedily  developed  the 
Wrights'  invention,  took  the  lead. 

Such  machines  are  fitted  with  searchlights  worked  from 
dynamos  driven  by  little  windmills  in  the  planes.  They 
are  provided  with  either  a  small  cannon  or  one  or  two 
machine-guns,  and  the  fighting  man  is  further  armed  with 
a  long-distance  revolver.  His  work  is  the  most  danger- 
ous in  the  war.  It  is  a  game  for  young  men  only  and  for 
the  very  pick  of  the  human  race  as  regards  quickness, 
audacity,  knowledge  of  engine,  coolness,  resource,  and 
good  shooting.  Such  a  man  must  be  prepared,  if  neces- 
sary, to  dive  head  foremost  one  or  two  thousand  feet  at 


WARPLANES  205 

the  enemy.  He  is  the  man  on  whom  we  rely  to  kill  the 
Zeppelins. 

The  early  air  duels  were  of  slow  movement.  The 
battles  of  to-day  resemble  the  swift  flight  of  the  swallow 
and  the  swoop  of  the  hawk. 

I  am  indebted  to  the  French  authorities  for  opportu- 
nity of  close  study  of  their  machines  and  methods. 

I  have  also  seen  something  of  the  splendid  work  of  our 
R.F.C.  in  France. 

Air-fighting  is  changing  so  rapidly  that  the  attempt 
at  simplification  of  a  complex  and  new  arm  may  be  out 
of  date  before  the  book  is  out  of  the  hands  of  the  bind- 
ers. 

The  vital  factor  of  the  aeroplane — and  this  applies  to 
all  the  four  types  with  which  I  am  dealing — is  the  en- 
gine, its  capacity  and  weight.  The  heavier  the  engine,  the 
slower  the  machine's  ability  to  rise  and  the  less  gun- 
weight  and  ammunition  and  petrol  it  can  carry. 

A  third  type  of  aeroplane,  which  has  attracted  most 
attention  but  has  not  really  been  so  important  as  the 
first  and  second  types  I  have  described,  is  the  bomb- 
dropper.  At  the  beginning  of  the  war  bomb-dropping 
was  very  effective,  because  the  flyers,  in  the  absence  of 
efficient  anti-aircraft  artillery,  were  able  to  fly  low  and 
aim  carefully  at  ammunition  depots,  railroad  junctions, 
Zeppelin  sheds,  and  other  fairly  large  objects.  Some  of 
the  early  flying  was  done  at  merely  six  thousand  feet 
from  the  ground.  Anti-aircraft  guns  speedily  caused  the 
airmen  to  fly  much  higher,  and  to-day,  at  twelve  to  fifteen 
thousand  feet,  they  have  little  chance  of  aiming  with  such 
degree  of  precision.  They  can  hit  a  town,  of  course,  but 
to  damage  a  particular  building  in  a  town  is  more  or  less 
chance  w^ork.  Flying  at  this  height  an  aeroplane  could 
perhaps  hit  Waterloo  Station  or  the  Stock  Exchange  dis- 


206        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

trict,  but  it  could  not  with  certainty  locate,  let  us  say,  a 
particular  building  like  St.  Paul's. 

In  addition  to  the  height  at  which  the  machine  must 
fly  to  avoid  guns,  there  has  to  be  a  large  allowance  made 
for  windage,  and  also  recognition  of  the  fact  that  the 
aeroplane  itself  is  flying  at  from  forty  to  fifty  miles  an 
hour  while  it  is  dropping  the  bombs.  As  a  rule,  the  raids 
of  bomb-droppers  are  now  undertaken  by  twenty  to  thirty 
machines,  which  fly  in  the  form  of  a  wedge,  with  a  leader 
in  front.  The  bomb-droppers  are  often  protected  by 
fighting  planes,  though  every  bomb-dropper  carries  his 
own  machine-gun  for  self-defence. 

Almost  the  most  interesting  utilisation  of  the  aero- 
plane is  for  photographic  scouting.  I  well  remember 
discussing  the  uses  of  the  aeroplane  with  the  brothers 
Wright,  w^hen,  in  reply  to  the  criticism  of  some  one 
present  as  to  the  danger  of  scouting  by  aeroplane,  they 
pointed  out  that,  after  all,  one  aeroplane  would  be  able 
to  do  more  scouting  than  a  whole  squadron  of  cavalry. 
Events  have  proved  that  they  were  more  than  right,  be- 
cause the  scouting,  aeroplane  carries  with  it  not  only  hu- 
man eyes  but  the  eyes  of  a  camera,  and  in  no  department 
of  war  work  has  there  been  greater  progress  during  the 
last  few  months  than  in  photography  by  aeroplane.  At 
the  headquarters  of  each  army  are  large  plans  of  the  op- 
posing enemy  trenches  and  also  of  suspected  gun  posi- 
tions. These  are  corrected  at  regular  intervals,  when 
the  weather  is  suitable,  by  photographs  taken  with  tele- 
scopic lenses,  these  photographs  being  speedily  developed, 
printed,  enlarged,  and  used  for  bringing  up  to  date  our 
knowledge  of  the  enemy  line. 

To  deceive  the  aeroplane  observers  each  side  resorts 
to  all  kinds  of  tricks.     There  are  dummy  guns  that  ac- 


WARPLANES  SOT 

tually  fire,  and,  of  course,  there  are  endless  ordinary 
dummy  guns  of  wood. 

A  use  to  which  the  aeroplane  has  not  yet  been  effec- 
tively put  is  sea  observation.  The  British  Navy  has 
aeroplanes  and  seaplanes,  and  excellent  ones  too — all  the 
navies  of  the  world  have  aeroplanes — but  these  cannot 
leave,  or  return,  to  water  in  rough  weather.  Experi- 
ments have  been  tried  in  the  United  States,  France,  and 
England  for  starting  aeroplanes  from  ships.  There  is  a 
fruitful  field  for  the  inventor  who  can  perfect  this  scheme, 
not  on  paper  but  in  practice.  An  aeroplane  can  fly  in 
almost  any  weather.  A  Zeppelin  or  other  airship  is  at 
the  mercy  of  the  wind.  The  man  who  perfects  a  means 
of  releasing  an  aeroplane  from  a  battleship  and  providing 
for  its  safe  return  in  any  weather  in  which  ships  can  fight 
will  achieve  a  revolution  In  sea  warfare  as  important 
as  the  aeroplane  has  created  in  war  on  land. 


THE  WAR  DOCTORS 


THE  WAR  DOCTORS 

THEIR    WORK    UNDER   FIRE 

Among  the  first  forces  mobilised  by  the  Gentians  at 
the  end  of  July,  19 14,  were  the  kinematographers  and 
the  artists.  The  German  Empire  has  therefore  a  com- 
plete pictorial  record  of  the  war  from  its  earliest  days. 
We  have  lately  begun  to  use  the  kinematograph.  And 
we  have  also  started  to  enshrine  by  colour  and  canvas 
the  lives  of  our  men.  Now  that  we  have  sent  out  some 
of  our  best  painters  the  War  Doctor  should  be  among 
the  first  of  the  men  at  the  front  to  be  made  known  and 
perpetuated. 

We  are  so  accustomed  to  consider  doctors  as  part  of 
our  daily  lives,  or  as  workers  in  speckless  and  palatial 
hospitals,  that  we  have  hardly  yet  visualised  the  man  who 
shares  the  hell  of  the  front  trench  with  the  fighters, 
armed  only  with  two  panniers  of  urgent  drugs,  instru- 
ments, and  field  dressings,  his  acetylene  lamp  and  elec- 
tric torch.  Most  of  us  think  of  his  war  work  as  being 
accomplished  at  one  of  the  great  healing  places  at  the 
base. 

If  there  be  degrees  of  chivalry,  the  highest  award 
should  be  accorded  to  the  medical  profession,  which  at 
once  forsook  its  lucrative  practices  in  London,  or  Mel- 
bourne, or  Montreal,  in  a  great  rally  of  self-sacrifice. 
The  figures  of  the  casualties  among  them  bring  home  to 
those  who  have  only  the  big  hospital  idea  of  the  war  doc- 

211 


212        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

tor,  sad  facts  that  should  lead  to  due  understanding  of 
this  not  sufficiently  known  but  veritable  body  of  Knights 
in  the  Great  Crusade.  During  three  months  in  the  Royal 
Army  Medical  Corps  alone — I  account  them  according 
to  the  figures  published  in  The  Times  from  day  to  day — 
these  medical  service  casualties  were: — 

Officers  Killed    . . ,  53 

Wounded 208 

**        Missing , 4 

N.CO.'s  and  Men  (R.A.M.C.  only)  : 

Killed     260 

Wounded     1,212 

Missing —  3 

I  propose  to  set  down  the  order  In  which  our  medical 
service  arranges  its  chain  of  responsibility,  premising 
my  account  by  the  statement  that  the  medical  army  of 
to-day  exceeds  numerically  the  whole  British  military 
forces  overseas  before  the  outbreak  of  war. 

It  is  a  little  difficult  and  complex  to  explain.  I  find 
that  there  is  some  confusion  in  the  public  mind  as  to  the 
regimental  work,  that  of  the  Royal  Army  Medical  Corps, 
and  their  handmaidens  the  British  Red  Cross  Society  and 
Order  of  St.  John.  But  there  is  no  confusion  or  over- 
lapping in  the  zone  of  hostilities. 

In  the  preparations  for  the  great  Battle  of  the  Somme, 
Sir  Douglas  Haig,  thorough  in  this  as  in  every  other 
detail,  himself  co-operated  with  the  medical  services  in 
arranging  his  regimental  aid  posts,  his  casualty  clearing 
stations,  and  the  rest  of  them  as  systematically  as  his 
batteries,  his  ammunition  "dumps,"  and  his  reserves. 

First  in  the  order  of  danger  is  the  Regimental  Aid 
Post,  where  the  regimental  doctor,  with  his  stretcher- 


THE  WAR  DOCTORS  213 

bearers,  awaits,  alongside  the  men  who  are  to  clamber 
"over  the  top,"  the  bloody  fruits  of  battle.  In  the  early 
days  of  the  war,  before  we  had  discovered  the  secret,  or 
had  the  means,  to  blast  our  road  into  Germany  by  cease- 
less shells,  the  Regimental  Aid  Post  was,  as  a  rule,  in 
some  deserted  farmhouse  as  near  to  the  front  trench  as 
possible.  To-day,  as  we  advance,  our  guns  leave  noth- 
ing standing,  so  that  what  was  once  perhaps  a  chateau 
is  now  only  a  stretch  of  rubble.  There  is  therefore  but 
little  available  cover  for  the  doctors  or  the  others  before 
"consolidation." 

The  intensity  of  the  French  and  German  artillery  at 
Verdun  in  March  seemed  to  me  then  the  limit  of  human 
capacity  to  produce  noise  and  destruction.  But  the 
Somme  bombardment  actually  furrowed  or  flattened  all 
before  it.  Verdun  itself  could  not  exist  a  week  if  ex- 
posed to  this  fearful  French  and  British  cannonade.  Its 
volume  of  sound  is  so  great  that  at  times  the  very  earth 
shakes  beneath  one's  feet. 

The  doctor  has  to-day  probably  only  the  shelter  of 
one  of  our  own  trenches  or  any  little  part  that  may  re- 
main of  a  captured  German  trench.  There  is  no  other 
covering  for  him  and  his  brave  stretcher-bearers,  who 
are  at  once  his  nurses  and  his  orderlies.  Happily  not 
so  many  of  these  are  fired  upon  by  the  enemy  as  hereto- 
fore; for,  as  the  Prussians  have  realised  that  our  ar- 
tillery is  the  most  deadly  thing  in  the  history  of  war, 
they  have  become  a  good  deal  more  reasonable  and 
human.  Now  that  their  own  wounded  greatly  outnum- 
ber ours  on  almost  every  occasion,  their  doctors  and 
stretcher-bearers  often  advance  with  a  sheet  or  towel 
held  high  on  a  rifle  as  a  flag  of  truce  in  order  that  they 
may  collect  their  wounded  and  we  ours.  In  the  early 
days  of  the  war  similar  suggestions  on  our  part  were 


214        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

haughtily  and  contemptuously  refused.  And  so  the  ad- 
vanced medical  forces  on  both  sides  are  at  last  sparing 
the  wounded  a  good  deal  of  the  drawn-out  horrors  of 
^'No  Man's  Land." 

The  fine  young  men  with  the  English,  Scotch,  Irish, 
Canadian,  and  Australian  accents  who  stand  unarmed 
in  these  Regimental  Aid  Posts  work  with  an  intensity 
and  celerity  which  eclipse  even  that  of  the  surgeons  in 
London's  operating  theatres. 

The  stretcher-bearers  stagger  in  with  their  load.  There 
is  a  lightning  diagnosis,  an  antiseptic  application,  ban- 
daging, a  hastily-written  label  tied  to  the  man's  breast, 
and  the  wounded  one  is  borne  off  and  away  in  the  open 
to  the  next  stage,  the  Advanced  Dressing  Station,  which 
is  as  often  as  not  also  pushed  right  up  into  the  fire  zone. 
The  regimental  stretcher-bearers  therefore  begin  again 
another  dangerous  pilgrimage  rearwards. 

As  there  is  much  ignorance  in  the  public  mind  on  the 
subject  of  casualties,  it  should  be  well  realised  that  by 
far  the  greater  proportion  of  our  wounded  are  slightly 
hit,  and  are  "walking  cases,"  so  little  hurt  that  in  in- 
numerable instances  where  the  stretcher-bearers  them- 
selves have  fallen  they  have  been  carried  by  the  slightly 
wounded  soldiers. 

I  know  no  more  moving  experience  than  an  afternoon 
in  an  advanced  dressing  station.  Let  me  describe  that 
of  West  Peronne.  Its  location  is  changed  now,  so  I  am 
giving  the  enemy  no  information.  We  reached  it  on  a 
heavy  and  sultry  Sunday  afternoon  by  hiding  ourselves 
behind  anything  possible.  Dust  and  smoke  gave  the  at- 
mosphere of  a  coming  thunder-storm,  the  thudding  of 
the  guns  on  both  sides  was  incessant.  Now  and  then 
was  heard  the  brisk  note  of  a  machine-gun,  which  sounds 
for  all  the  world  like  a  boy  rasping  a  stick  along  palings 


THE  WAR  DOCTORS 


215 


r 

JCO 
CO 


or  the  rattle  which  policemen  carried  in  Mid-Victorian 
days. 

There  was  no  sign  of  anything  in  the  nature  of  a  hos- 
pital, a  tent,  or  of  anything  above  ground.  I  was  get- 
ting somewhat  weary  of  being  told  to  lie  down  flat  every 


^16        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

few  seconds  to  avoid  bursting  shells,  when  I  saw  a  couple 
of  stretcher-bearers  coming  through  the  haze  as  from 
nowhere  and  then  disappear  underground.  ''It  is  under- 
neath there/'  I  was  told  by  my  guide,  whose  daily  duty  it 
was  to  inspect  these  medical  outposts. 

As  quickly  as  possible  we  got  down  into  a  trench  and 
followed  the  stretcher-bearers.  There,  in  darkness  lit 
by  a  few  candles,  we  gradually  made  out  a  very  grim 
scene.  Talking  was  difficult,  for  one  of  our  batteries 
had  just  come  into  action  a  few  yards  away. 

Owing  to  the  heavy  enemy  shell  fire,  what  I  soon 
found  to  be  an  underground  maze — a  plan  of  which  ap- 
pears on  page  215 — had  become  completely  blocked 
with  wounded  men  lying  in  the  dark  on  their  stretchers, 
the  passage  ways  dug  out  of  the  clayish  earth  being  just 
the  width  of  a  stretcher  handle  and  no  more.  We  trod 
gently  from  stretcher  handle  to  stretcher  handle  over  the 
silent  men,  some  of  them  asleep  with  the  blessed  morphia 
in  their  brains,  others  cheerily  smiling,  others  staring  as 
wounded  men  do.  All  who  could  move  a  hand  had  a 
cigarette — ^now  admitted  to  be  the  first  need  of  all  but 
the  very  dangerously  wounded. 

Passing  on,  and  using  our  electric  torch  as  little  as 
possible,  so  as  not  to  disturb  the  sleepers,  we  came  to  the 
main  dressing  room.  Remember  it  was  all  underground, 
all  dark,  and  that  the  oncoming  wail  of  approaching 
shells,  with  immediate  subsequent  explosions,  was  con- 
tinuous. 

In  this  main  dressing  room  the  doctors,  al)  young  men, 
some  of  them  subalterns  of  the  R.A.M.C.,  were  wash- 
ing and  bandaging  with  the  care  and  speed  that  can  be 
seen  in  the  War  films.  I  counted  twenty- four  patients 
in  that  small  chamber.  We  crept  onward  and  came  to 
another  room  where  there  were  nine  cases,  and  again 


THE  WAR  DOCTORS  217 

to  a  smaller  one  where  lay  the  more  dangerously 
wounded. 

These  dressing  rooms  were  protected  by  some  four  or 
five  feet  of  earth  above  them.  There  was  a  small  offi- 
cers' mess  and  a  medical  storeroom,  which  were  merely 
shielded  by  corrugated  iron  from  shrapnel  splinters,  a 
kitchen,  an  office,  and  that  was  about  all.  An  operation 
for  tracheotomy  was  taking  place  in  one  of  the  dressing 
rooms. 

In  all  my  many  experiences  abroad  I  have  never  seen 
a  more  touching  sight  than  this  Httle  underground  gath- 
ering of  some  seventy  men,  devoted  doctors  and  assist- 
ants, waiting  amidst  the  incessant  shelling  until  the  over- 
crowded maze  could  be  evacuated.  Let  those  who  take 
their  ease  on  a  Sunday  afternoon,  or  any  other  after- 
noon, realise  that  this  same  scene  never  ceases.  Let 
those  who  consider  that  they  are  amply  doing  their  ''bit" 
by  keeping  things  going  at  home  be  grateful  that  their 
"bit"  is  not  as  that  of  these  young  men.  We  cannot  all 
of  us  share  the  danger,  but  we  can  every  one  of  us  admit 
the  harsh  inequalities  of  our  respective  war  work. 

One  or  two  of  the  patients  were  shell-shock  victims, 
and  it  was  piteous  to  note  their  tremor  at  the  approach- 
ing shell  wails  and  subsequent  thuds  just  outside  our  lit- 
tle catacomb. 

The  plan  appearing  on  page  215  gives  a  suggestion  of 
the  ingenuity  with  which  the  R.x\.i\I.C.  officers  have  con- 
verted a  bit  of  an  old  German  trench- work  to  the  pur- 
poses of  an  underground  hospital  and  home  for  the  doc- 
tors and  their  assistants. 

The  shelling  increased  in  intensity.  It  became  ob- 
vious that  we  had  to  remain  concealed  till  the  storm  had 
ceased.     In    the    intervals    we    discussed    things    about 


218        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

wounded  men.  We  learned  that  quite  a  considerable 
proportion  of  them  had  dressed  their  own  wounds  with 
the  little  first  field  dressing  that  is  sewn  into  the  tunic  of 
every  soldier.  Others  had  got  along  well  enough  with 
the  medical  help  of  regimental  stretcher-bearers.  The 
rest  had  been  tended  at  the  Regimental  Aid  Posts  to 
which  I  have  referred. 

Presently  the  Germans  diverted  the  attention  of  their 
gunners  to  another  point  of  the  line,  and  we  were  able 
to  emerge  into  daylight  once  more  and  join  a  small  com- 
pany of  lightly  wounded  and  stretcher-bearers  on  their 
way  to  a  Walking  Wounded  Collecting  Station.  I 
name  all  these  distinct  stages  in  the  progress  of  the 
wounded  man  in  order  to  show  how  carefully  the  sys- 
tem has  been  thought  out  and  organised.  It  is  a  tribute 
to  the  foresight  of  our  medical  authorities  that  all  this 
vast  scheme  had  been  arranged  before  the  war. 

On  our  way  rearwards  to  the  Walking  Wounded  Col- 
lecting Station  we  were  passed  by  some  horse-ambu- 
lances which,  summoned  by  telephone,  were  proceeding 
to  the  underground  hospital  we  had  just  left.  On  our 
way  we  escaped  the  only  enemy  aeroplane  attack  that 
came  to  my  notice  during  this  visit  to  the  front.  An 
officer  and  a  few  men  were  wounded.  It  speaks  elo- 
quently for  the  celerity  with  which  our  casualties  are 
cleared  when  I  tell  you  that  on  the  same  evening,  many 
miles  away  in  the  rear,  I  saw  this  particular  wounded 
officer  sitting  in  bed  nonchalantly  enjoying  his  dinner. 
By  the  next  day,  I  was  told,  he  would  probably  be  in 
England. 

The  Walking  Wounded  Collecting  Station  consisted 
of  marquees  in  which  a  considerable  number  of  Tommies 
of  all  dialects  were  partaking  of  a  hearty  meal.     As 


THE  WAR  DOCTORS  219 

each  arrived  his  name  and  regimental  number  were  en- 
tered, with  particulars  of  his  case.  Where  necessary  his 
dressings  were  re-arranged,  and  in  every^  case  a  cigarette 
was  offered.  Prodigious  quantities  of  tea,  cocoa,  soup, 
bread,  butter  and  jam  were  disappearing.  Despite  the 
bandaged  heads  and  arms  of  some  and  the  limping  of 
others,  they  were  a  merry,  if  tired,  party.  Eagerly  and 
in  vigorous  and  unprintable  Anglo-Saxon  one  of  them 

said :     '*!  want  to  have  another  smack  at  the Alle- 

mans."  In  a  tent  was  a  wounded  officer,  famous  in 
the  world  of  big  game  (scarred  as  the  result  of  a  miracu- 
lous escape  from  an  African  elephant),  who,  though 
covered  with  blood,  had  only  one  anxiety,  and  that  was 
to  have  his  wound  dressed,  get  a  bath,  and  return  to  his 
men  in  time  for  the  next  *'stunt" — to  use  an  American 
expression  which  has  grown  fixedly  into  our  war 
language.  Two  days  before,  this  Walking  Wounded 
Collecting  Station  had  been  shelled  by  the  enemy.  By 
a  strange  stroke  of  fortune  the  only  victims  were  a  large 
number  of  German  prisoners. 

Life  is  held  gaily  and  cheaply  in  these  advanced  hos- 
pitals. There  was  a  small  underground  chamber  here 
fitted  with  bunks  as  on  shipboard,  in  which  the  officers 
could  sleep  if  they  chose,  but  they  did  not  seem  to  be 
particular  whether  they  used  it  or  not. 

We  shared  the  soldiers'  meal,  listened  to  their  stories 
— each  one  of  them  a  full  adventure  in  peace  time — and 
continued  basewards,  accompanied  by  motor  ambulances 
in  which  sitting  cases  were  carried,  to  a  great  Corps  Col- 
lecting Station,  a  veritable  Clapham  Junction  of  the  evac- 
uating system. 

To  prevent  mistakes,  each  man's  label  is  checked  at 
every  point  he  arrives  at  with  as  much  care  as  a  regis- 
tered letter  on  its  way  through  the  post.     There  is  no 


220        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

Red  Tape,  and  nothing  is  left  to  chance.  There  is  no 
lost  time.  It  is  never  forgotten  that  pain  is  ever  pres- 
ent and  that  saving  time  may  mean  saving  Hfe.  But 
even  though  we  have  not  yet  come  to  that  link  in  the 
chain — the  hospital  which  is  kept  neat  and  burnished  by 
the  hand  of  w^oman — all  is  well  arranged  and  spotlessly 
clean.  Many  dressings  were  being  re-examined  and 
many  wounds  again  attended  to. 

Here  I  saw  the  field  operating  theatre  nearest  to  the 
battle.  It  was  in  a  spotless  tent  with  a  table,  a  power- 
ful acetylene  lamp,  chloroform,  and  instruments — all 
ready.  Operations  in  the  field  are  a  rare  exception  in 
the  British  Army.  The  matter  of  their  necessity  has 
been  discussed  and  re-discussed.  There  are  arguments 
for  and  against.  But  Sir  Arthur  Sloggett,  General 
Macpherson,  and  the  famous  surgeons  we  have  at  the 
front,  with  Sir  Alfred  Keogh  at  home,  may  be  relied 
upon  to  know  their  business  to  the  tips  of  their  fingers. 
In  other  armies,  notably  the  Italian,  urgent  operations 
take  place  in  what  answer  to  our  Advanced  Dressing 
Stations.  An  Italian  officer  said  to  me:  *'We  should 
not  do  it  unless  we  had  to.  Many  of  our  cases  w^ould 
not  stand  transport  from  our  Alpine  heights." 

Resuming  our  journey  with  the  ambulances,  we  came, 
after  an  hour's  halting  journey  through  the  dust  and 
the  A.S.C.  convoys  to  a  Casualty  Clearing  Station — 
the  first  hospital  of  a  kind  visualised  by  the  general  pub- 
lic. 

I  have  discovered  from  their  conversation  that  very 
few  people  realise  the  intricate  nature  of  the  net  spread 
by  the  R.A.M.C.  over  the  field  of  war.  The  meshes  are 
many — but  not  too  many.  An  important  part  of  the 
net  are  these  very  perfect  clearing  establishments.  The 
description  of  two  will  be  sufficient. 


THE  WAR  DOCTORS  221 

I 

One  of  these  Clearing  Stations  was  a  large  old  water- 
mill  which  had  been  transformed  into  a  most  beautiful 
hospital.  I  reached  it  in  time  to  witness  the  arrival  of 
the  ambulances.  Out  of  them  came  all  manner  of 
wounded,  British  ajid  German.  Friend  and  foe  were 
treated  alike.  They  were  just  wounded  men — that  was 
all.  Such  as  could  walk  by  themselves  or  with  the  help 
of  orderlies,  came  out  dazed  into  the  sunlight  from  the 
ambulances.  The  Germans,  who  had  for  days  been 
trench-bound  by  our  barrage,  were,  as  a  rule,  horribly 
dirty  and  impossible  to  approach  for  physical  reasons. 
Later,  at  another  hospital  I  saw  gently-born  V.A.D. 
nurses  w^ashing  great  unbathed  wounded  Prussians  and 
Bavarians.  I  felt  positively  guilty  when  I  thought  of 
the  chaff  with  which  the  V.A.D.  movement,  its  uniforms 
and  salutings,  was  received  ten  years  ago  in  the  bad  old 
days  when  we  ought  to  have  been  preparing  for  war. 

Here,  in  this  mill  Casualty  Clearing  Station,  the 
broken  soldiers  came  for  the  first  time  under  the  influ- 
ence and  gentle  touch  and  consoling  smile  of  women 
nurses.  Many  of  the  men  had  been  in  and  about  the 
firing  line  for  weeks,  several  of  the  Germans  for  longer 
than  that.  I  talked  with  some  of  the  enemy  who  had 
arrived  a  day  or  two  before  in  what  must  have  seemed  a 
fairy  palace.  Some  spoke  of  the  care,  kindness,  good 
food,  flowers,  and  music  (the  gramophone  never  stops) 
which  were  provided.  As  a  rule  they  are  grateful — at 
any  rate  at  first.  Some  are  very  grateful.  One  officer 
used  the  word  ''lovingly"  (liebvoll),  and  ''lovingly"  it 
must  seem,  for  nothing  is  more  marked  in  inspecting 
German  hospitals,  even  such  an  establishment  as  the 
Rudolf  Virchow  Hospital  in  Berlin,  than  to  notice  the 
roughness    of    the   surgery,    the   callousness    shown   in 


9.%%        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

making  remarks  before  patients,  and  the  inferiority  of 
the  under-trained  nurses. 

Some  are  not  grateful  and,  like  the  pampered  civilians 
at  the  Alexandra  Palace,  think  it  necessary  to  place  on 
record  complaints  based  on  mere  hostility. 

This  Casualty  Clearing  Station,  placid  with  its  river, 
with  its  sunny  gardens — into  which  many  beds  had  been 
carried  so  that  the  wounded  might  enjoy  the  birds,  the 
flowers,  and  trees — seems  like  an  oasis  after  the  grim 
desolation  of  the  wilderness  of  the  Somme  heights. 

It  is  impossible  to  convey  in  w^ords  the  amazing  tireless 
activity  of  the  nurses  and  doctors.  I  did  not  know^  that 
human  beings  could  work  so  many  hours  without  sleep 
at  the  most  anxious  kind  of  work  the  world  provides. 
No  wonder  that  the  women  sometimes  break  down  and 
require  hostels  and  rest  homes.  Yet  during  a  number 
of  war  visits  I  have  not  met  with  one  complaint  from 
any  member  of  any  medical  staff  in  the  field  or  else- 
where. There  is,  on  the  other  hand,  the  same  continu- 
ous enthusiasm  throughout  the  medical  sendee  as  one 
sees  in  the  great  boot  factory  at  Calais,  in  the  vast  motor 
repair  shop  in  Paris,  or  our  transport  from  Havre  to 
the  Front.  The  stimulus  of  war  seems  to  double  the 
energy  of  every  human  being  as  soon  as  he  lands  in 
France. 

At  this  great  Casualty  Clearing  Station  by  the  railway 
the  hospital  trains  were  collecting.  When  w^e  had  been 
shown  through  the  cool  tents  and  had  talked  with  men 
we  happened  to  know,  we  went  on  to  the  newly  made 
railway  platform  where  the  stretchers  were  being  as- 
sembled. It  w^as  a  scene  almost  of  gaiety.  The  gram- 
ophone was  playing  the  inevitable  'Tf  You  Were  the 
Only  Girl  in  the  World."  Jokes,  cigarettes,  and  news- 
papers were  passed  about.     The  men  looked  the  acme 


THE  WAR  DOCTORS  223 

of  content  in  their  beautiful  white  train.  They  were 
willing  and  anxious  to  chat.  They  were  interested  in  all 
that  was  going  on,  and  grateful.  Many  might  be  going 
to  ''Blighty"  (Britain),  the  paradise  of  the  wounded 
man's  imagination. 

I  do  not  know  w^hether  any  one  has  written  an  account 
of  these  trains,  the  doctors  and  nurses  who  live  in  them 
year  in  and  year  out,  travelling  thousands  of  miles  in 
the  course  of  a  twelvemonth,  but  some  one  should  do 
so.  My  own  information  is  as  yet  so  scanty  as  to  be 
little  worth  reading.^  Of  the  wonderful  hospital  barges, 
too,  which,  whenever  possible,  are  used  on  the  wide 
French  rivers  and  canals  to  carry  cases  that  cannot  stand 
any  shaking,  not  enough  has  been  said. 

It  was  interesting  at  the  Clearing  Station  to  see  evi- 
dence of  the  Red  Cross  Society  in  the  existence  of  the 
comfortable  English  beds  of  many  of  the  sufferers.  In 
the  world  of  wounded  all  sorts  of  little  things  have  an 
importance  not  understood  by  the  generality  of  us.  A 
man  likes  to  lie  in  bed  rather  than  on  a  stretcher  not 
merely  for  the  sake  of  custom  and  comfort.  Such  is 
human  nature  that  one  man  feels  proud  of  having  a  bed 
when  another  man  has  not. 

The  train  took  away  all  in  a  fit  condition  for  travel, 
leaving  behind  such  cases  as  those  of  serious  chest,  ab- 
dominal, and  head  wounds  in  the  care  of  surgeons. 

On  a  later  day  I  saw  the  arrival  of  one  such  train  at 
one  of  those  hospitals  which  look  out  on  the  sea  and 
are  situated  on  the  Northern  French  coast,  which  long 
before  the  war  was  recognised  as  a  great  healing  place. 
The  medical  journals  tell  their  readers  in  their  own  lan- 
guage of  these  wonderful  hospitals — converted  casinos 

^  I  have  since  read  with  interest  a  remarkable  record,  "The  Diary 
of  a  Nursing  Sister"  (William  Blackwood  and  Sons). 


2M        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

and  hotels  and  miles  of  perfectly-equipped  huts.  Our 
hospitals  in  France  are  a  world  of  their  own.  I  do  not 
know  how  many  women  and  men  they  employ,  but  I 
should  say  more  than  one  hundred  thousand.  In  the 
Etaples  district  alone  there  are  35,000  beds.  Canada, 
Australia,  New  Zealand,  Newfoundland,  India,  and  the 
whole  of  the  Empire  have  given  with  both  hands. 

Those  of  the  wounded  who  can  be  made  well  quickly 
enough — and  these  are,  of  course,  the  immense  majority 
— go  back  to  their  war  duties  at  the  front,  some  eagerly, 
all  without  murmuring.  As  they  lie  there  in  these  won- 
derful huts,  in  which  every  provision  for  speedy  con- 
valescence, for  happiness,  and  reasonable  amusement  are 
afforded,  tended  as  they  are  by  the  best  surgeons  and 
physicians  of  the  English-speaking  world,  and  by  ladies 
simply  and  gently  born,  they  all  tell  you  the  same  story 
— they  would  like  to  get  a  glimpse  of  "Blighty"  before 
going  back  again  to  fight. 

I  went  on  board  one  of  the  white  hospital  ships, 
marked  against  submarines  on  each  side  with  a  huge  red 
cross,  to  see  them  going  home.  Arriving  on  the  quay 
in  the  British  Red  Cross  and  St.  John  ambulances,  and 
gently  carried,  with  the  peculiar,  slightly  swaying  walk 
of  the  trained  stretcher-bearer,  they  pass  on  to  the  ship 
and  descend  in  lifts  to  the  particular  deck  on  which  is 
their  cot  or  bed.  There  can  be  nothing  of  the  kind  in 
the  world  better  than  these  speedy,  perfectly  lit  and 
ventilated  vessels. 

Once  on  board,  and  yet  another  stage  nearer  ''Blighty" 
and  the  beloved  ones,  all  are  contentment  itself.  Some 
of  the  less  injured  men  were  on  deck  singing  merrily. 
Others  of  the  wounded  were  discussing  a  newspaper  arti- 
cle outlining  a  project  for  the  settling  of  soldiers  on 
land  in  the  Dominions  after  the  war.     "Many  will  go  to 


THE  WAR  DOCTORS  ^25 

Canada;  some  to  Australia,  I  dare  say,"  said  one  man; 
''but  I  am  one  of  those  who  mean  to  have  a  little  bit  of 
'Blighty'  for  myself.  We  see  enough  in  France  to  know- 
that  a  man  and  his  family  can  manage  a  bit  of  land  for 
themselves  and  live  well  on  it." 

I  remember  a  similar  conversation  a  year  ago  close  to 
Ypres,  when  a  young  sergeant,  who  had  been  a  game- 
keeper at  home  and  a  working  man  Conservative,  ob- 
served, "The  men  in  the  dug-outs  talk  of  a  good  many 
subjects,  but  there  is  one  on  which  they  are  all  agreed. 
That  is  the  land  question.  They  are  not  going  back  as 
labourers,  or  as  tenants,  but  as  owners.  Lots  of  them 
have  used  their  eyes  and  learned  much  about  small 
farming  here." 

As  I  watched  the  swift  ship  and  saw  her  speeding 
away  to  England  at  well  over  twenty  knots,  I  wondered 
if  people  and  politicians  at  home  are  beginning  to  under- 
stand that  the  bravery  and  camaraderie  of  the  officers 
and  men  in  the  field  have  broken  down  all  class  feeling; 
and  that  our  millions  of  men  abroad  are  changed  com- 
munities of  whose  thoughts  and  aims  we  know  but  little. 

Just  as  Grant's  soldiers,  the  Grand  Army  of  the  Re- 
public, dominated  the  elections  in  the  United  States  for 
a  quarter  of  a  century,  so  will  the  men  I  have  seen  in 
the  trenches  and  the  ambulances  come  home  and  demand 
by  their  votes  the  reward  of  a  very  changed  England — 
an  England  they  will  fashion  and  share;  an  England  that 
is  likely  to  be  as  much  a  surprise  to  the  present  owners 
of  Capital  and  leaders  of  Labour  as  it  may  be  to  the 
owners  of  the  land. 


THE  SEARCH  FOR  THE  MISSING 


THE  SEARCH  FOR  THE  MISSING 

In  the  earliest  days  of  the  War  a  beloved  only  son 
was  missing,  and  his  mother  asked  The  Times  if  it  could 
use  its  organisation  in  Paris  to  search  the  battlefields 
for  news  of  him.  One  of  the  members  of  the  French 
staff  of  the  newspaper  spent  some  three  weeks  in  a  vain 
endeavour  to  obtain  definite  information.  That,  I  be- 
lieve, was  the  first  system.atic  attempt  at  what  has  now 
grown  to  be  a  very  important  branch  of  Red  Cross  work. 

Shortly  afterwards  Lord  Robert  Cecil  went  to  Paris, 
and  I  remember  finding  him  busily  at  work  in  a  small 
room  in  the  Hotel  lena.  The  Department  inaugurated 
by  Lord  Robert  has  now  become  one  of  the  many  useful 
branches  of  Red  Cross  work.  Lord  Robert  early  set 
the  example  of  thoroughness  for  which  the  department 
is  known,  for  he  himself  went  out  personally  to  search 
cottages  and  chateaux  for  men  who  might  have  been 
carried  there  for  treatment,  and  to  discover,  if  possible, 
the  whereabouts  of  the  graves  of  the  fallen. 

The  news  of  this  errand  of  mercy  which  the  Red  Cross 
Society  was  speeding  travelled  swift  and  far,  and  soon 
the  calls  made  upon  the  staff  available  threatened  to 
overwhelm  it.  The  small  effort,  it  was  clear,  must  be 
extended — for  the  idea  of  abandoning  it  was  not  enter- 
tained. So  larger  premises  were  secured  and  branches 
were  opened  in  Boulogne  and  other  suitable  places,  and 
a  central  office  was  organised  in  London.  Here  a  large 
number  of  charitably  minded  people  laboured  to  carry 

229 


S30        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

on  the  great  mass  of  work  which  waited  upon  their  ef- 
forts. So  fast  did  the  organisation  grow  that  the  orig- 
inal accommodation  proved  quite  inadequate.  Lord  SaHs- 
bury,  Lord  Robert  Cecil's  brother,  then  provided  larger 
quarters  at  his  London  home,  and  in  February,  191 5,  the 
staff  was  transferred  there. 

In  July,  however,  more  room  had  become  necessary, 
and  then  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  placed  the  first  floor  of 
his  residence,  Norfolk  House,  at  the  disposal  of  the 
workers.  A  month  later  this  space  was  inadequate.  Fi- 
nally, Lord  Astor  lent  his  house  in  Carlton  House  Ter- 
race, and  there  the  organisation  is  now  housed.  The 
prisoners'  department  has  been  constituted  now  as  a 
separate  system. 

These  quick  changes  of  home  reveal  clearly  how 
strong  a  hold  upon  the  public  imagination  the  new  work 
obtained,  and  how  eager  all  those  who  had  ceased  to  hear 
from  their  friends  in  France,  or  who  knew  that  their 
friends  were  among  the  missing,  were  to  avail  them- 
selves of  help.  They  reveal  also  how  thoroughly  the 
organisation  won  the  public  trust,  how  efficient  it  was 
even  at  the  beginning,  and  how  great  a  want  was  sup- 
plied by  it. 

The  principle  of  working  had,  of  course,  to  be 
evolved,  and  the  difficulties  encountered  in  the  course  of 
this  work  were  very  many.  The  first  searchers  found 
themselves  with  a  list  of  names,  and  with  the  whole  of 
war-wracked  France  in  which  to  search  for  those  men. 
How  were  they  to  begin  to  search?  Where  were  they 
to  go?  The  armies  were  fully  engaged  in  battles  upon 
the  issue  of  which  hung  the  fate  of  Europe;  men  had 
small  leisure  to  spare  for  seeking  for  fallen  comrades. 

It  was  seen  that  the  first  step  must  be  to  tap  the  re- 
sources of  the  hospitals.     Members  of  the  first  little 


THE  SEARCH  FOR  THE  MISSING         231 

party  with  which  Lord  Robert  Cecil  was  identified  began 
to  try  to  gain  news  of  the  missing  by  questioning  the 
wounded.  Sometimes  this  method  led  to  nothing,  but 
frequently  a  man  would  be  found  who  had  known  the 
lost  soldier  and  marked  his  fate.  In  those  cases  the 
anxieties  aroused  were  answered  at  once,  and  fears  and 
hopes  set  at  rest;  in  these  cases,  too,  an  indication  was 
given  as  to  where  the  soldier  had  fallen,  if  he  was  dead, 
so  that  steps  could  be  taken  to  mark  his  burial  place. 

This  identification  of  graves  was  carried  on  until  the 
end  of  19 14,  when  it  ceased  to  be  part  of  the  duty  of  the 
department,  the  War  Office  having  appointed  a  Graves 
Registration  Commission  under  Brigadier-General  Fa- 
bian Ware.  A  close  connexion,  however,  subsists  be- 
tween the  Commission  and  the  Red  Cross  Department. 

It  was  an  obvious  step  from  this  to  instal  "watchers'* 
in  all  hospitals.  These  watchers  were  given  lists  of 
names  of  missing  men,  and  it  was  their  duty  to  ask  new 
patients  if  they  knew  of  anything  of  these  men,  to  note 
down  their  answers  and  to  forward  them  to  headquar- 
ters. 

Oin  my  last  visit  to  Boulogne  I  spent  a  morning  ex- 
amining the  organisation  of  a  hospital  ship,  and  was 
especially  attracted  to  the  work  of  a  searcher — a  Roman 
Catholic  priest,  the  member  of  a  well-known  family — 
who,  note-book  in  hand,  was  interrogating  group  after 
group  of  the  lightly  wounded  on  their  way  to  ''Blighty.'* 
He  very  kindly  showed  me  the  result  of  his  morning's 
work,  and  it  occurred  to  me  then  that  the  public  might 
care  to  read  a  selection  of  these  war  dramas  in  miniature. 
At  the  end  of  this  chapter  I  have  appended  a  few  that 
tell  their  own  story,  in  the  official  language  of  the  re- 
porter, and  also  in  the  simple  words  of  the  bereaved. 

This  system  formed  the  backbone  of  the  whole  organ- 


^32        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

isation,  and  upon  this  system  the  organisation  is  based  at 
the  present  day.  As  a  system  it  has  been  brought  to 
great  perfection;  every  fragment  of  information  is  col- 
lected; the  information  is  sent  out  in  language  which 
can  be  understood  by  the  least  educated  and  by  those  who 
are  bewildered  by  sorrow.  Moreover,  testimonials  to 
the  daring  and  devotion  of  the  fallen  are  gathered,  to 
their  endurance  under  suffering,  and  to  the  manner  in 
which  their  comrades  risked  and  even  lost  their  lives  to 
save  them  from  suffering,  death  or  captivity.  No  letter, 
however  trivial,  remains  unanswered;  no  enquiry,  how- 
ever difficult,  is  neglected.  . 

Some  of  the  tributes  sent  by  comrades  are  documents 
of  strange  appeal. 

''Lieutenant  ^"  wrote  a  private  in  his  regiment, 

"was  acting  fine.     The  regiment  went  on  about  20  yards 

from  where  he  fell  and  took  cover.     Private  got 

permission  to  go  back  to  him  and  take  his  identity  disk 
and  his  revolver." 

"Your  brother,"  wrote  another  soldier,  "was  a  grand 
officer;  his  men  would  have  followed  him  anywhere. 
He  fell  in  the  thick  of  it."  And  an  officer  wrote  of  one 
of  his  men,  "He  was  a  hero;  he  was  an  example  to  all 
of  us."  It  is  not  difficult  to  understand  how  these  sim- 
ple expressions  written  by  comrades  who  have  shared  the 
same  dangers  bring  a  measure  of  consolation  to  the  fa- 
thers and  mothers  of  our  heroic  dead. 

Each  enquiry  is  filed  separately  and  becomes  soon  a 
dossier;  the  moment  any  piece  of  information  is  received 
by  the  Bureau  it  is  transmitted  to  the  friends  of  the  sol- 
dier. These  dossiers  are  human  documents  of  rare  in- 
terest which  none  can  read  unmoved ;  they  reveal,  too,  in 
convincing  fashion  the  extraordinary  amount  of  care 
and  thought  which  is  expended  upon  the  work  of  tracing 


THE  SEARCH  FOR  THE  MISSING         233 

and  searching  for  the  missing.  Indeed  in  this  organisa- 
tion is  to  be  found  the  newest  and  noblest  form  of  de- 
tective enterprise,  as  full  of  thrills  and  surprises,  of  close 
deductive  reasoning  and  resourceful  cleverness  as  the 
memoirs  of  Sherlock  Holmes. 

Here,  for  example,  is  a  case  selected  at  random  from 
among  the  hundreds,  nay  thousands,  which  have  been 
filed.  The  missing  man  may  be  called  Private  Smith. 
On  the  1st  of  October,  191 5,  the  Bureau  received  the 
following  letter  concerning  him: — 

I  should  feel  most  thankful  to  you  if  you  could 
possibly  trace  any  news  of  my  dear  son  reported 
"Missing"  at  the  Dardanelles  in  August.  I  have 
tried  myself  but  failed. 

The  enquiry  was  put  in  hand  at  once,  and  Private 
Smith's  name  added  to  the  hospital  lists.  But  on  De- 
cember 13th  the  desired  information  was  still  lacking. 
Nevertheless  it  was  possible  to  report : — 

Private  Roberts  now  in  hospital  abroad  states 
that  about  3  days  after  the  landing  they  were  ad- 
vancing across  a  plain  to  go  to  the  first  line  trenches 
when  the  Turks  opened  fire  on  them.  Our  in- 
formant was  with  your  son  until  they  had  crossed 
the  plain  but  did  not  see  him  fall.  The  stretcher- 
bearers  never  found  him,  and  it  was  probable,  there- 
fore, that  he  had  crawled  into  the  long  grass  and  so 
got  out  of  sight.  If  this  account  is  accurate  it 
seems  to  suggest  that  your  son  has  been  made  a 
prisoner  by  the  Turks,  and  in  this  hope  and  belief 
we  are  continuing  to  make  every  possible  enquiry 
with  regard  to  the  matter,  and  will  at  once  com- 


234        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

municate  with  you  if  any  further  or  more  reassur- 
ing news  comes  to  hand. 

The  reply  to  this  letter  shows  how  much  relief  it 
brought  to  the  boy's  mother;  she  wrote: — 

I  received  your  welcome  letter.  I  am  very  grate- 
ful to  you.  I  can  assure  you  I  shall  wait  very  anx- 
iously for  any  fresh  news  of  my  dear  son,  who  seems 
to  have  been  spirited  away  from  me. 

The  next  letter  the  mother  received  was  dated  Decem- 
ber 22nd.     It  ran: — 

We  have  received  information  stating  that  Pri^ 
vate  X.,  who  was  taken  to  X  Hospital,  would  be  able 
to  give  you  information  about  your  son. 

Then  on  January  4th,  the  Bureau  wrote  further: — 

We  have  received  another  report  which  tends  to 
confirm  the  possibility  of  your  son  having  been 
taken  prisoner  by  the  Turks.  Private  Y  states  as 
follows : — *T  was  a  machine-gun  driver.  We  were 
ordered  to  advance,  to  take  up  a  fresh  position  in 
the  centre  at  Suvla  Bay.  The  sergeant  and  Smith 
got  too  far.  Two  were  wounded  and  the  gun  and 
two  tripods  were  lost,  and  we  were  ordered  to  retire. 
The  ground  which  was  open  was  occupied  by  the 
Turks.  I  went  out  again  by  daylight,  and  also  by 
night,  but  could  find  no  trace  of  the  sergeant  or 
Smith.  I  believe  they  were  taken  prisoners.  I 
knew  Smith  well;  he  came  from ,  was  of  me- 
dium height,  and  clean-shaven." 


THE  SEARCH  FOR  THE  MISSING         235 

The  evidence  seemed  now  to  be  tending  to  the  prisoner 
of  war  theory,  but  still  a  great  load  of  anxiety  lay  on  the 
mother's  mind.  After  seeing  her  son's  friend  in  hospital 
and  receiving  this  letter,  she  wrote:  ''It  seems  a  num- 
ber of  people  saw  him  up  to  a  certain  point  and  then 
missed  him,  which  leaves  a  terrible  doubt  as  to  whether 
he  was  killed  or  taken  prisoner." 

Confirmation  of  the  reports  already  given  was  received 
in  February  in  the  shape  of  another  statement,  but  the 
Bureau  added:  ''Up  to  the  present,  however,  we  have 
not  been  able  to  obtain  confirmation  of  these  statements 
either  from  the  list  of  prisoners  which  have  reached  us 
so  far  from  Turkey,  or  from  any  other  source." 

This  letter  w^as  acknowledged  with  deepest  thankful- 
ness. Then  came  a  bitter  blow  in  the  shape  of  another 
statement. 

They  were  nearly  surrounded.  Two  were 
known  to  have  been  killed.  One  of  them  was  miss- 
ing at  the  time,  but  was  found  two  months  later  in 
Malta.  I  believe  he  had  been  left  for  dead,  but 
eventually  crawled  into  the  Cheshire  lines.  An- 
other was  said  to  have  been  w^ounded  in  the  wrist, 
but  has  disappeared  and  so  has  Smith. 

The  outlook  was  now  black  indeed.  In  April,  after 
receiving  a  further  statement,  the  Bureau  wrote  to  the 
soldier's  mother : 

We  are  afraid  that  there  is  now  little  chance  of 
your  son  being  a  prisoner,  as  we  should  have  ex- 
pected to  have  received  his  name  in  some  of  the 
lists  which  have  reached  us  from  Turkey.  If,  how- 
ever, there  are  any  other  enquiries  you  would  like  us 


236        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

to  make  for  you,  you  have  only  to  let  us  know.  In 
the  meantime  we  beg  once  again  to  assure  you  of 
our  deep  sympathy  in  the  matter. 

No  definite  information  perhaps,  but  how  much  bet- 
ter than  the  utter  silence  which  had  baffled  the  seeker 
before  the  Red  Cross  came  to  her  help.  At  least  she 
was  able  to  picture  the  last  hours  of  her  gallant  boy 
and  to  be  with  him  in  spirit  during  the  moments  of  his 
devotion  and  sacrifice.  Nor  did  the  tragic  courage  of 
the  words  in  her  last  letter  to  the  Bureau  "I  am  hoping 
still"  express  in  any  degree  a  diminution  of  the  gratitude 
which  she  felt  and  acknowledged. 

Many  of  these  dossiers,  unhappily,  tell  only  a  story  of 
sorrow;  there  are  other  cases,  however,  in  which  the 
miracle  longed  for  so  eagerly  actually  happens,  and  the 
lost  one  is  discovered.  But  it  must  be  remembered  that 
appeal  is  not  made  to  the  Bureau  until  the  of^cial  sources 
have  been  carefully  canvassed  and  other  means  have 
failed.  In  other  words,  the  enquiry  in  most  cases  is 
directed  to  discovering  either  in  what  circumstances  a 
man  came  by  his  death,  or  whether  it  is  possible  that  he 
may  be  a  prisoner  of  war. 

Another  case,  which  affords  a  good  illustration  of 
the  kind  of  work  being  carried  on  day  by  day,  was  first 
brought  to  the  Bureau  s  notice  in  April  of  this  year  by 
a  report  from  the  War  Offtce  that  Sergeant  James  was 
missing.  ''Anything,"  wrote  his  wife  in  asking  for 
help,  "would  be  better  than  this  awful  suspense." 

Some  fifteen  days  later  the  Bureau  was  in  possession 
of  information  which  left  little  or  no  doubt  that  the 
poor  fellow  was  killed.     ''An  officer,"  they  wrote,  "says 

that  during  the  unsuccessful  attack  on ,  as  he  him- 

,self  lay  wounded  on  the  ground,  Sergeant  James  came 


THE  SEARCH  FOR  THE  MISSING         237 

up  and  spoke  to  him;  and  that  instant  the  sergeant  was 
very  badly  wounded  in  the  chest.  The  officer  feared  at 
the  time  that  your  husband  was  killed,  but  just  at  this 
moment  the  retreat  was  ordered  and  the  fallen  were  left 
on  the  spot."  Further,  a  private  gave  the  same  account 
and  adds  that  "from  the  sudden  way  in  which  your  hus- 
band fell  he  was  instantly  killed.  It  was,"  he  declares, 
"within  10  yards  of  the  German  lines  about  4  a.m.,  and 
bright  moonlight.  I  saw  him  plainly;  he  was  my  own 
sergeant." 

The  poor  wife,  to  whom  the  names  of  the  informants 
were  given,  verified  the  story  herself  in  a  few  days,  and 
wrote  to  the  Bureau : 

Words  simply  cannot  express  m^  thanks  for  the 
kindness  and  attention  you  have  taken  on  my  behalf. 
I  am  indeed  grateful.  I  am  positively  sure  that  if  it 
had  not  been  for  you  I  should  still  be  suffering  in 
suspense. 

A  certificate  of  her  husband's  gallantry  was  after- 
wards sent  to  her. 

The  gratitude  of  these  stricken  men  and  women  for 
the  help  given  them  is  one  of  the  most  wonderful  fea- 
tures of  this  work.  It  is  equalled  in  its  beauty  only  by 
the  courage  and  resignation  which  are  displayed.  A 
poor  wife  who  was  unable  to  obtain  exact  information 
wrote : 

I  am  broken-hearted  at  having  to  confess  that  I 
have  tried  my  very  best  to  find  him  and  have  failed. 
So  I  shall  have  to  place  all  my  trust  in  our  Heav- 
enly Father  and  wait.  When  the  war  is  over  he 
may  come  back  to  m^e  along  with  others  of  our  dear, 


238        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

brave  men  whose  wives  and  mothers  have  not  al- 
lowed their  fears  to  quench  their  hope.  I  thank 
you  with  all  my  heart,  and  I  pray  that  God  will  be 
with  you  and  the  good  work  you  are  doing. 

Even  more  touching  is  this  cry  of  pain,  stifled  in  the 
uttering :  '*I  am  very  grateful ;  but,  oh  it  is  a  bitter  end 
to  the  long,  long  hoping."  And  this:  ''We  accept, 
knowing  that  he  did  his  duty." 

The  desire  for  assurance  that  the  dead  man  has  found 
a  grave,  and  that  his  grave  is  being  tended,  is  also  con- 
stantly being  expressed,  and  there  is  a  whole  world  of 
pathos  in  the  reply  of  a  mother  who  had  received  a  de- 
scription of  her  son's  burial  place.  "We  are  all  glad 
to  know  that  he  lies  comfortable." 

It  is  an  inspiring  thought  that  this  splendid  work  of 
seeking  is  carried  out  almost  entirely  by  voluntary  means. 
How  much  the  success  of  it  is  due  to  Lord  Robert 
Cecil's  early  work  has  already  been  indicated. 

It  has  sometimes  been  asked  why  this  work  is  carried 
out  by  an  agency  like  the  Red  Cross  and  not  by  the  W^ar 
Office  itself.  The  answer  is,  clearly,  that  no  department 
of  State  could  hope  to  touch  the  human  chord  which 
gives  this  work  its  greatest  value.  It  would  be  wrong 
to  expect  an  already  overworked  War  Office  to  busy  it- 
self collecting  small  personal  details,  yet  it  is  just  these 
details  for  which  all  those  who  have  suffered  the  great 
loss  yearn  so  wistfully.  That  they  should  have  this 
comfort  is  surely  beyond  all  dispute.  Who,  for  example, 
would  deny  to  a  mother  a  letter  like  this? 

We  called  him  "Tom" ;  he  was  a  dear  good  fel- 
low. It  happened  on  the  left.  I  saw  him  fall.  So 
far  as  I  could  see,  it  was  all  over.     He  himself  said. 


THE  SEARCH  FOR  THE  MISSING         239 

"I  am  done  for;  go  on,  lads."     The  ground  where 
this  happened  was  in  our  possession  when  I  left. 

Indeed,  the  mother's  reply  furnishes  the  complete  jus- 
tification for  the  work  being  accomplished.  ''We  have 
heard  nothing  more  from  the  War  Office ;  only  that  he 
was  wounded  and  missing,  and  but  for  your  help  and 
kindness  we  should  still  be  waiting  in  suspense." 

Here  are  some  complete  dossiers: 

The  Dossier  of  Pte.  J.  L.  D of  the  2nd  Black 

Watch 


28th  July,  1916. 

Could  you  possibly  find  out  for  me  the  fate  of  en- 
closed soldier,  Pte.  J.  L.  D ,  2nd  Black  Watch, 

Indian  Expeditionary  Force  ?  He  was  wounded  on 
January  21st  in  the  Persian  Gulf.  I  am  enquiring 
for  the  family. 

M H .    (LadyH.) 

11. 

nth  August,  19 1 6. 

We  have  only  received  one  report  as  to  the  above, 
which  we  now  send  on  to  you  though  we  consider  it 

most  unlikely  to  be  true,  as  Pte.  D 's  name  is 

not  in  any  list  of  Turkish  prisoners  yet  received. 

The  report  comes  from  Pte.  J.  R.  ,  and  Black 

Watch,  and  is  as  follows : 

"On  2 1  St  January,  1916,  in  Mesopotamia  I  saw 
D in  the  Turkish  ist  line  captured,  but  trying 


mo        LORD  XORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

to  get  away  and  calling  out,  so  that  he  is  probably  a 
prisoner  of  war.  The  English  took  the  position, 
but  had  to  retire  for  lack  of  reinforcements." 

We  are  continuing  enquiries  in  the  hope  of  gain- 
ing more  satisfactory  information. 
To  Lady  H . 

in. 

26th  September,  19 16. 

It  is  with  great  pleasure  that  we  can  now  send 

you  the  news  that  Pte.  D is  a  released  prisoner 

of  war  and  has  been  invalided  to  India.  We  had 
heard  nothing  beyond  the  report  sent  to  you  on  the 
nth  August,  which  we  hesitated  to  believe.  This 
good  news  has  come  to  us  from  Basra  to-day. 

Letters  to  Pte.  D should  be  addressed  with 

full  regimental  particulars,  c/o  "Casualties,"  Bom- 
bay, and  the  envelope  should  be  marked  in  the  cor- 
ner "Exchanged  Prisoner  of  War." 

We  shall  be  greatly  obliged  if  you  will  let  us  know 
whether  Pte.  D 's  relatives  had  had  any  inti- 
mation that  he  w^as  a  prisoner  of  war,  and  whether 
he  had  been  able  to  communicate  with  them.  Such 
knowledge,  if  you  can  kindly  supply  it,  may  be  of 
the  greatest  assistance  to  us  in  comforting  other 
anxious  relatives. 
To  Lady  H . 

IV. 

9th  October,  19 16. 

Pte.  D 's  friends  have  not  heard  from  hii 

at  all,  so  that  they  were  very  grateful  for  your  leti 


THE  SEARCH  FOR  THE  MISSING         241 

ter  and  his  address.  Thank  you  so  much  for  your 
kind  help.  Yours  truly, 

M H . 

y. 

13th  October,  19 16. 

Lady  H has  made  enquiry  about  my  hus- 
band, Pte.  J.  L.  D ,  2nd  Black  Watch.     I  am 

very  pleased  to  here  the  news  of  him.  I  heard 
from  the  Office  at  Perth  that  he  was  a  released 
Pris.  of  War,  and  the  2nd  of  Oct.  I  heard  again 
that  he  as  a  gunshot  wound  in  the  head  and  heel, 
and  he  is  at  Colaba  War  Hospital,  Bombay,  India. 
I  should  like  to  here  from  him.  I  have  only  had 
one  card  from  him  since  he  was  wounded,  and  that 
was  to  say  he  was  at  Bagdad.  The  last  letter  he 
wrote  was  the  i6th  of  Jan.  and  he  was  wounded 
on  the  2 1  St  Jan.  so  its  nine  months  he  has  been 
wounded  I  do  hope  he  is  getting  better  I  have  only 
seen  him  once  in  the  two  years  and  I  have  lost  my 
Brother  and  Father  since  he  as  been  away  so  I 
have  had  a  great  worry  and  I  have  three  little  chiel- 
dren  so  I  do  hope  he  will  be  spared  to  see  them 
again.  I  wonder  if  he  is  too  ill  to  write  as  I  have 
not  heard  from  him,  and  do  you  think  he  would  be 
able  to  come  home  if  he  is  well  enough  and  would 
you  be  able  to  let  me  know  if  he  is  badly  wounded 
as  I  am  very  anxious  to  know  after  such  a  long 
time.     I  should  be  greatly  oblige. 

E.  D . 

VI. 

1 6th  October,  19 16. 

Your  letter  of  the  13th  crossed  ours  to  Lady 
H .     Probably  by  this  time  you  will  have  re- 


M^        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

ceived  the  very  cheering  account  of  your  husband 
which  we  have  sent  to  her  for  you.  We  told  her 
that  we  had  received  a  report  through  the  War 

Office  that  Pte.  D was  in  Colaba  War  Hospital, 

Bombay,  that  his  wound  was  healed  and  his  condi- 
tion good. 

This  will  comfort  you  very  much  as  he  is  evi- 
dently progressing  really  well.  We  do  not  know 
what  his  movements  will  be,  but  if  we  should  hear 
at  any  time  that  he  has  left  India,  we  will  let  you 
know. 

With  many  congratulations, 
To  Mrs.  E.  D . 


The  Dossier  of  Flight  Sub-Lieutenant  C.  G.,  of 
THE  Royal  Naval  Air  Service. 

I. 

July  1 8th,  19 1 6. 

With  reference  to  your  enquiry  for  Flight  Sub- 
Lt.  C.  G.,  Royal  Naval  Air  Service,  we  have  re- 
ceived the  following  report  from  Flight  Sub-Lt. 
E ,  now  in  hospital  at  Bombay,  who  states : — 

"About  the  20th  April,  G went  up  carrying 

food  to  Kut.  He  was  attacked  by  a  German  ma- 
chine.    His  observer   was  shot  dead,   and  G • 

had  to  land  in  Turkish  trenches,  and  wus  made  a 
Prisoner.  The  Turks  sent  for  his  valise  and  box 
to  Orah  and  reported  that  he  is  well  though  slightly 
wounded.*' 


THE  SEARCH  FOR  THE  MISSING         243 

We  have  not  received  Flight  Sub-Lt.   G 's 

name  on  any  Prisoners'  List  yet,  but  we  will  inform 
you  as  soon  as  we  do  so.     Prisoners  generally  are 
not  able  to  communicate  with  their  relations  for 
about  the  first  four  months. 
To  G.  H.  G.,  Esq. 

XL 

July  27th,  1916. 

We  beg  to  send  you  a  further  report  which  we 

have  received  about  Mr.  G .     Our  informant, 

who  is  now  in  hospital  at  Alexandria,  states:— 

^'I  saw  Mr.  G start  on  the  24th  to  carry  food 

to  our  chaps  in  Kut,  taking  with  him  as  observer, 

Lt.  F ,   from  the  Norfolks.     As  they  passed 

over  the  Turkish  lines  they  were  attacked  by  a  Fritz 
(Turkish  or  German  aeroplane),  the  observer  was 

killed  and  Mr.  G ,  who  was  fired  at  contmu- 

ously,  was  brought  down.     Either  that  day  or  the 
next,  the  Turks  sent  a  message  by  Flag  of  Truce 

to  Commander  B that  Mr.  G was  wounded 

and  wanted  his  kit.  Everything  he  had  was  ac- 
cordingly sent  up  stream  by  motor  boat  to  a  place 
agreed  on  where  the  Turks  met  it.  Commander 
B is  now  at  Zanzibar,  East  Africa.  The  rec- 
ords have  probably  gone  to  England.  Mr.  G-— 
was  a  most  enthusiastic  pilot,  and  when  he  could 
would  go  over  with  food  three  or  four  times  a  day. 
It  was  no  place  for  seaplanes,  and  I  remember  him 
saying  the  Turks  would  get  him  soon,  before  it 
actually  happened." 

This  is  a  more  detailed  account  than  the  last  we 
sent  you  and  tends  to  confirm  that  report,  and  we 


244        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

very  much  hope  that  when  we  obtain  full  lists  of 
the  prisoners  in  the  hands  of  the  Turks  we  shall 
find  his  name  in  them. 

Assuring  you  of  our  sincere  sympathy  in  your 
anxiety. 

III. 

July  28th,  1 9 16. 

I  beg  to  thank  you  for  your  letter  of  yesterday's 
date  giving  me  much  interesting  information  re- 
garding my  son,  which  has  been  communicated  to 

you  by  A.  J ,  R.N.A.S.     You  have  been  most 

kind  in  all  your  efforts  in  my  interest,  and  I  tender 
my  thanks  to  all  those  who  work  so  unselfishly  for 
others. 

Will  you  please  accept  the  enclosed  £25  as  a  sec- 
ond donation  to  your  funds  from  Mrs.  E.  M.  G.  ? 

Yours  faithfully, 

G.  H.  G . 

IV. 

12.  ix.  16. 

I   have  much  pleasure    in   informing   you  that 

Flight  Lt.  C.  B.  G has  been  released  by  the 

Turks. 

He  has  cabled  from  Amara  under  date  loth  Sep- 
tember that  he  has  been  exchanged  and  is  well  in 
health. 

Thanking  you  for  your  kind  efforts  on  his  be- 
half. 

G.  H.  G . 


THE  SEARCH  FOR  THE  MISSING         245 


V. 

September  14th,  1916. 

We  are  so  glad  to  hear  that  you  have  had  a 
cable  from  your  son,  Flight  Sub-Lieutenant  C. 
G ,  Royal  Naval  Air  Service. 

We  have  also  heard  from  our  Office  at  Basra  and 
were  on  the  point  of  writing  to  you  to  say  that  we 
had  heard  that  he  was  an  exchanged  Prisoner  of 
War  from  Bagdad,  was  quite  well,  and  sailed  for 
India  in  the  Hospital  ship  Varsova  on  September 
loth. 

We  do  indeed  congratulate  you. 

This,  then,  is  a  labour  of  love,  belonging  in  its  essence 
to  Red  Cross  work  as  that  work  has  come  to  be  under- 
stood throughout  our  land.  It  is  a  labour  which  eases 
the  sorest  wounds  of  warfare  and  which  indirectly  brings 
great  comfort  to  the  fighting  men  themselves,  many  of 
whom  are  haunted  by  the  fear  of  being  numbered  among 
the  lost  and  so  becoming  a  source  of  suffering  to  their 
friends. 

The  British  soldier  needs  no  advertisement,  but  it  is 
not  possible  to  close  this  chapter  without  placing  on  rec- 
ord the  great  help  which  all  ranks  of  the  xA.rmy  give  to 
the  searchers  for  information  about  the  missing.  No 
trouble  is  grudged  by  these  men  if  it  is  likely  to  help  to 
relieve  the  burden  of  their  comrades'  womenfolk.  The 
wounded  in  hospitals,  indeed,  seem  to  forget  their  own 
pains  on  the  instant  when  this  appeal  is  made  to  them. 
Many  a  sore  heart  owes  its  consoling  to  the  action  of 
these  splendid   fellows;  and  many  a  wife  and  mother 


246        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

treasures  to-day  as  a  priceless  heritage  the  letters  written 
by  them  in  memory  of  a  fallen  friend.  "I  thought  per- 
haps you  might  like  to  hear" — the  letters  often  begin, 
and  the  note  of  apology  frequently  runs  all  through 
them.  It  is  the  way  of  the  British  soldier;  for  within 
the  breast  of  a  hero  he  cherishes  ever  the  heart  of  a  little 
child. 


NEUTRAL  GLIMPSES 


NEUTRAL  GLIMPSES 

THE  GERMANS  IN  SWITZERLAND 


Zurich,  Switzerland, 

On  leaving  Italy  I  spent  some  days  in  Switzerland 
en  route  for  Spain,  and  was  able  to  gather  a  good  deal 
of  miscellaneous  information  not  without  value. 

At  night,  Zurich,  the  first  large  neutral  city  in  which  I 
have  been  since  the  beginning  of  the  war,  is  as  bright 
as  London  was  in  July,  1914.  Rome,  too,  is  bright,  but 
over  the  Italian  capital  there  is  the  indefiinable  atmosphere 
of  war. 

In  coming  tip  through  the  Swiss-Italian  lakes,  we  were 
at  once  among  German  tourists.  At  Lugano  we  saw 
figures  familiar  enough  before  the  war,  the  stout,  elderly 
German  husband,  followed  at  a  respectful  distance  by  his 
wife  in  her  atrocious  Reformkleid.  It  was  like  going 
back  years  in  one's  life.  In  the  train  were  Germans  who 
talked  loudly  at  us,  and  stared  in  the  German  way.  The 
dining-car  was  filled  with  the  usual  German  advertise- 
ments ;  rather  amusingly  some  of  them  read  to-day — the 
Hamburg- Amerika  Line  with  an  illuminated  picture  of 
one  of  Herr  Ballin's  ocean  monsters  on  its  way  to  New 
York! 

It  was  near  midnight  when  we  reached  Zurich.  One 
remembers  only  the  German  voices,  the  electric  bright- 
ness of  the  streets,  and  the  familiar  rushing  of  the  river. 

249 


250        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

But  it  felt  like  Germany.  Next  morning,  as  we  woke 
after  delightful  sleep  induced  by  much  journeying,  the 
impression  was  for  a  moment  that  of  a  nightmare.  Was 
it  Germany,  or  was  it  not?  On  the  floor,  where  it  had 
been  disrespectfully  thrown  over  night,  was  the  big  eider- 
down Federdecke.  At  my  right  hand  on  the  wall  was  a 
prominent  notice  in  large  German  type: — 

Die  Zimmerpreise  werden  erhoht  wenn  keine  der 
Hauptmahheiten  im  Hotel  genommen  wird,  auch 
wenn  der  Preis  vorher  festgesetzt. 

[The  prices  of  rooms  are  raised  if  none  of  the 
principal  meals  are  taken  in  the  hotel,  even  if  the 
price  has  been  agreed  upon.] 

The  waiter  who  brings  the  coffee  speaks  German  onlyi 

Looking  down  into  the  sunny  streets  at  seven  in  the 
morning,  we  see  a  German  town  alive  and  busy,  neW; 
spick  and  span,  like  most  German  cities.  The  Stddtische 
Strassenhahnen  are  packed  with  business  men.  School 
children  are  pouring  through  the  streets  and  across  the 
squares.  There  are  the  little  girls  with  spectacles,  double 
pigtails  and  knapsacks;  big  boys  with  spectacles,  socks, 
and  bare  legs ;  students  with  queer  caps. 

Ziirich  is  efificient.  It  is  obviously  well  managed. 
There  are  almost  as  many  '^Achtung"  and  **Verboten'* 
signs  as  in  Hanover  itself.  It  is  so  efificient  that  the  lit- 
tle people  are  dragged  out  of  their  beds  and  sent  to  school 
at  seven  in  the  morning — an  hour  when  other  little  peo- 
ple in  a  less  over-organised  country  are  prattling  and 
bathing  as  children  should.  At  night  they  are  still  about 
at  a  very  late  hour. 

All  English  people  have  a  strange  sensation  when  first 
walking  through  a  German  neutral  town  in  war  time. 
Little  but  German  is  heard.     The  old  familiar  "Delika- 


NEUTRAL  GLIMPSES  S51 

tessen"  and  **Bier  vom  Fass"  notices  intensify  the  feel- 
ing. This  part  of  German  Switzerland,  though  by  no 
means  hostile  towards  individual  Britons  or,  indeed, 
towards  the  Empire,  is  completely  German.  In  Ziirich 
the  English  traveller  finds  himself  cheek  by  jowl  with 
our  chief  enemy,  for  the  Reichsdeiitsch  population  of 
Ziirich  is  large.  These  ''Imperial  Germans"  are  not,  as 
a  rule,  offensive,  and  are  considerably  more  civil  to  the 
English  than  they  were  before  the  war. 

The  attitude  of  the  German-Swiss  was,  naturally,  anti- 
Ally  at  first,  but  it  is  becoming  less  and  less  hostile,  and, 
in  some  ways,  positively  appreciative.  These  same  good 
people  of  Zurich,  who  strike  the  British  visitor  as  being 
so  German,  recently  besieged  the  railway  station  to»wel- 
come  the  passing  British  prisoners  on  their  way  to 
hospitable  internment.  At  some  places  barriers  were 
erected  to  keep  back  the  crowds  who  assembled  in  thou^ 
sands  merely  to  see  the  trains  pass  in  the  middle  of  the 
night,  and  to  cheer  the  newcomers.  At  Ziirich  the  police 
were  powerless,  and  the  enthusiasm  for  the  wounded 
British  was  delirious.  These  manifestations  of  Swiss 
good-heartedness  have  quite  obliterated  from  the  minds 
of  British  residents  the  memory  of  the  rough  handling 
to  which  some  were  subjected  at  the  beginning  of  the 
war.  Even  those  who,  like  The  Times  Correspondent, 
were  arrested  and  kept  in  custody  for  various  periods 
warmly  recognise  the  friendliness  of  the  Swiss  people. 

The  German-Swiss,  I  think,  are  puzzled  about  the 
war,  and  especially  about  Verdun.  On  the  bookstalls 
you  find  side  by  side  with  more  modest  collections  of 
The  Times  and  of  the  Continental  Edition  of  the  Daily 
Mail,  suspicious  great  piles  of  the  Frankfurter  Zeitiing, 
the  Vossische  Zeitung,  the  Neue  Freie  Presse,  and  of  all 
the  chief  German  and  Austrian  newspapers. 


252        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

These  same  German  and  Austrian  journals  and  their 
German-Swiss  contemporaries  gave  great  prominence  to 
the  Kaiser's  famous  February  despatch,  in  which  he 
stated  that  his  brave  Brandenburgers  had  stormed  the 
^'fortress  of  Douaumont,"  and  suggested  that  Douau- 
mont  was  a  real  fortress  commanding  the  ruined  little 
city  on  the  Meuse. 

As  I  pointed  out  in  a  message  telegraphed  to  The 
Times  from  Verdun  early  in  March,  and  reprinted  in  this 
volume,  Douaumont  is  a  fort  only  in  name.  Six  months 
have  now  elapsed,  and  the  German-Swiss  see  that  all  the 
miHtary  might  of  their  kinsmen  has  been  without  avail. 
The  French-Swiss  newspapers,  in  good  Fleet-street  style, 
are  "rubbing  it  in."  They  reprint  the  February  head- 
lines of  the  German  newspapers  and  passages  from  an 
eminent  German  military  critic  who  wrote : — 

Verdun  is  at  its  last  gasp.     Even  as  I  write  our 
brave  troops  are  probably  quartered  in  its  houses. 

The  only  reply  from  Germany  is  the  monotonous  and 
outworn  suggestion  that  the  reduction  of  Verdun  is  tak- 
ing its  normal  course. 

It  should  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  business  connex- 
ions and  family  ties  between  Germany  and  German 
Switzerland  are  nearly  as  close  as  those  between  England 
and  Scotland.  Yet  some  of  the  German-Swiss  newspa- 
pers are  fair  and  give  both  sides  a  hearing.  This  is  the 
more  remarkable,  since  German  propaganda  by  bribed 
newspaper,  kinematograph,  advertisement,  private  letter, 
business  threat  and  bribe  never  ceases.  Through  her 
hosts  of  secret  agents  Germany  hears  when  this  or  that 
citizen  of  German  Switzerland  has  expressed  unortho- 
dox views.    Within  a  few  hours  the  culprit  receives 


NEUTRAL  GLIMPSES  253 

a   private   letter    carefully    controverting   his   opinions. 

German  methods  of  working  upon  neutrals  have  often 
been  analysed,  but  I  think  the  most  effective  of  them  are 
still  news-twisting  and  rapidity  of  publication.  In  the 
train  between  Ziirich  and  Berne  one  bull-necked  Hun  of 
the  commercial  traveller  type  read,  too  loudly  to  be 
polite,  a  German  report  of  the  most  recent  North  Sea 
"scrap,"  not  a  word  about  which  had  arrived  from  Lon- 
don. As  before,  the  idea  of  our  losses  was  allowed  to 
remain  in  the  German,  Austrian,  and  neutral  mind  long 
enough  to  become  embedded  there. 

Comparison  with  our  belated  Admiralty  report  next 
day  showed  that  the  German  communique  was  an  artful 
piece  of  lying,  but  the  lie  had  a  long  start,  as  in  the  Jut- 
land battle  matter. 

Another  object  of  the  German  propaganda  is  to  give 
the  impression  that  affairs  in  Germany  are  going  on  as 
usual.  Throughout  Switzerland  the  great  German 
steamship  advertisements  appear  as  though  the  Atlantic 
were  still  open.  The  Hamburg-Amerika  offices  in  the 
various  towns  look  as  if  nothing  had  changed.  The 
Balkan-Zug  (Balkan  Express)  has  flaring  advertise- 
ments and  time-tables  posted  up  on  the  walls  of  stations 
showing  its  route  ''Berlin-Budapest-Sofia-Konstantino- 
ple."  I  saw  one  of  them  purposely  placed  beside  a  mod- 
est announcement  of  the  Great  Western  Railway  "the 
route  for  England's  most  historic  sites  and  Cathedral 
Cities." 

There  are  some  faint  efforts  at  British  propaganda. 
They  might  be  greatly  improved  upon  and  intensified. 
Our  "man  in  the  street"  may  ask  why  we  should  trouble 
at  all  about  German  Switzerland  or  Switzerland  in  gen- 
eral, but  Downing-street,  I  imagine,  has  reason  to  know 
otherwise.     Nor  would  Germany  be  putting  in  propa- 


254        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

ganda  seven  dsLjs  a  week  unless  she  had  certain  objects 
in  view. 

In  French  Switzerland  our  French  Allies  are  render- 
ing us  great  services.  They  have  organised  at  Geneva 
a  series  of  lectures  upon  "The  Effort  of  the  Allies"  by 
eminent  French  writers  and  statesmen.  The  Germans 
have  striven  to  undermine  Swiss  belief  in  Allied  cohe- 
sion. With  true  French  insight,  our  friends  saw  that  if 
France  bore  generous  witness  to  what  her  Allies  have 
done  and  are  doing,  her  assurance  would  carry  greater 
weight  than  any  assurance  which  individual  Allies  could 
give  on  their  own  behalf.  The  result  has  been  a  series 
of  manifestations  of  which  the  effect  is  not  confined  to 
French  Switzerland. 

French  Switzerland  is  more  fervently  and,  as  I  gath- 
ered at  a  public  meeting,  more  vociferously  pro- Ally 
than  are  some  of  the  Allied  countries  themselves.  Ger- 
man Switzerland  is  sentimentally  pro-German,  but,  as  I 
have  said,  is  striving  to  be  fair.  But  Switzerland  as  a 
whole  is  pro-Swiss  "first,  last,  and  all  the  time,"  as 
Americans  say. 

Of  Italian  Switzerland  I  saw  little,  but  I  gathered  that 
notwithstanding  some  misapprehensions,  there  is  a  gen- 
eral feeling  of  relief  at  the  knowledge  that  the  comple- 
tion of  the  defences  on  the  Italian  side  of  the  frontier 
has  diminished  any  temptation  which  Germany  may  have 
felt  to  violate  Swiss  neutrality  in  that  direction.  Swit- 
zerland is  naturally  afraid  of  Germany  and  knows  her 
well  enough  to  understand  that  no  sentimental  considera- 
tion would  protect  Swiss  neutrality,  did  a  definite  mili- 
tary advantage  seem  obtainable.  Every  step  taken  by 
France  or  Italy  to  deprive  the  Germans  in  advance  of 
such  an  advantage,  therefore,  enhances  the  security  of 
the  Swiss. 


NEUTRAL  GLIMPSES  255 

Au  fond  des  choses,  I  believe  it  is  the  championship 
of  the  cause  of  little  nations  by  England  in  the  past  and 
by  the  Allies  in  the  present  that  has  most  affected  the 
attitude  of  Switzerland.  The  war  has  chastened  her 
and  has  caused  her  to  realise  her  comparative  helpless- 
ness. "You  are  becoming  absolutely  Germanised,"  I 
said  to  a  young  bank  manager  who  was  changing  some 
money  for  me.  "Not  at  all,"  he  replied.  "We  admire 
Germany,  but  her  rule  would  be  too  rigid  for  us  free  Re- 
publicans. We  are  grateful  to  England  for  her  protec- 
tion of  small  nations,  but  we  fear  Russia.  We  have  not 
forgotten  Russia's  visit  of  a  hundred  years  ago." 

His  was  a  very  different  tone  from  that  of  a  German, 
straight  from  Frankfurt,  with  the  Frankfurter  Zeitung 
in  his  hand,  a  member  of  the  race  which  has  made  Frank- 
furt famous.  He  w^as  an  elderly  man,  and  opened  the 
conversation  in  fairly  respectable  English  by  asking  if  I 
came  from  England.  He  proceeded  to  show  me  that 
he  knew  nothing  whatever  about  the  war. 

I  should  have  expected  this  attitude  from  an  ordinary 
German,  but  here  was  a  Jew,  a  member  of  one  of  the 
most  intelligent  races  of  the  world,  a  race  that  has  been 
given  quick  powers  of  insight,  inference,  and  deduction. 
Yet  he  was  convinced  that  Germany  had  been  basely  at- 
tacked, that  the  English  Navy  was  paralysed,  that  Lon- 
don was  almost  in  ruins,  that  England  was  on  her  last 
legs  financially  and  on  the  eve  of  a  social  revolution,  that 
Hindenburg  was  cunningly  drawing  Brusiloff  and  the 
Russians  on  to  their  doom. 

Nor  was  the  man  without  knowledge  of  England.  He 
had  been  there  twice — in  London  once  and  once  in  the 
Isle  of  Wight.  He  was  especially  loud  in  his  lamenta- 
tions over  our  futile  attempt  "to  starve  the  women  and 
children  in  Germany,"  but  had  nothing  to  say  when  I 


256       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

pointed  out  how  Bismarck  had  treated  Paris  in  1870. 
He  was  also  particularly  angry  that  the  Swiss  should  be 
making  fuzes  for  our  shells,  and  said  that  the  Swiss  were 
as  bad  as  the  Americans.  I  explained  that  neutral  coun- 
tries had  often  done  this  kind  of  thing  and  that  the 
Swiss,  by  the  way,  were  making  aluminum  for  the  Ger- 
man Zeppelins,  in  whose  future  potentiaHties  the  old 
gentleman  had  infinite  belief.  He  was  especially  elo- 
quent over  the  condition  of  German  finance  and  the  rela- 
tively good  position  of  the  mark  in  Switzerland. 

I  asked  him  if  he  ever  read  the  English  com- 
muniqiieSj  which,  by  the  way,  seem  to  be  very  fully  given 
in  the  German  Press.  He  replied  that  he  did,  but  they 
were  all  lies.  Verdun,  of  course,  was  going  all  right. 
Germany,  he  admitted,  was  suffering  from  lack  of  sev- 
eral kinds  of  food  and  raw  material.  He  confessed  that 
he  was  glad  of  the  opportunity  of  getting  a  few  days  in 
such  a  land  of  plenty  as  that  in  which  he  was  travelling. 
He  thought  the  war  would  last  at  least  till  Christmas, 
at  which  time  France  would  have  collapsed  and  England 
would  be  asking  to  be  allowed  to  "go  home,"  to  use  his 
own  words.  Germany  would  not  be  ungenerous.  "I 
am  not  an  annexationist,"  he  added.  "It  will  be  enough 
if  we  retain  Antwerp  and  some  control  over  the  manu- 
facturing districts  of  France  and  Belgium,  with  freedom 
of  the  seas,  and  big  compensation  for  ill-treatment  of  the 
German  colonies,  plus  means  to  complete  the  directj 
route  from  Antwerp  to  Berlin,  Constantinople,  and  Bag- 
dad, with  a  port  at  the  end  of  the  line." 

The  Swiss  are  better  informed  than  this.     They  knoWj 
more  of  the  true  position  and  hear  constantly  of  th( 
cross-currents  in  Germany.     Swiss  workmen  have  re- 
cently returned  from  Germany  in  considerable  numbers.^ 
They  prefer  the  lower  wages  and  the  full  meals  of  Hel- 


NEUTRAL  GLIMPSES  257 

vetia  to  the  high  pay  and  low  diet  of  Prussia.  They 
have  heard  of  the  peace  feelers  constantly  thrown  out, 
not  only  by  the  German  Imperial  Government,  but  by 
some  of  the  Governments  of  the  Federal  States.  But 
they  have  not,  and  cannot  have,  a  clear  idea  of  the  deter- 
mination that  animates  all  the  Allies,  and  their  very  neu- 
trality clouds  their  perception  of  the  full  meaning  of  the 
war. 

How  wide  is  the  gulf  that  separates  belligerent  from 
neutral  countries  is  revealed  almost  painfully  to  visitors 
by  the  presence  of  large  numbers  of  young  men  in  the 
streets.  In  Rome  there  are  still  some,  but  they  are  going 
daily.  In  Paris  there  are  none.  Thus  when  one  comes 
first  to  a  neutral  country  the  great  space  which  youth 
occupies  in  the  social  landscape  is  instantly  revealed. 
The  departure  of  our  youth  for  camp  and  battlefield  is 
part,  a  large  part,  of  the  price  we  are  paying  for  our 
freedom;  but  it  is  a  singular  fact  that,  despite  the  pres- 
ence of  young  men,  the  atmosphere  of  neutrality  is  de- 
pressing. 

When  passports  have  been  examined  at  the  French 
frontier  stations,  and  the  familiar  light  blue  uniforms 
once  more  predominate,  one  will  breathe  again.  In  these 
great  days  the  breath  of  war  is  the  breath  of  life,  and 
the  spirit  of  sacrifice  is  the  spirit  of  regeneration. 

II 

GENEVA 

Propaganda  Tricks 

Geneva. 
Much  valuable   information  can  be  gathered   at  Ge- 
neva in  regard  to  the  two  important  questions  of  prison- 
ers and  propaganda. 


258        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

Here  are  the  headquarters  of  the  old  original  Red 
Cross,  founded  in  1863.  It  would  be  impossible  in  any- 
thing less  bulky  than  a  fat  quarto  to  deal  with  its  in- 
numerable energies.  From  Geneva  radiate  the  com- 
munications on  the  subject  of  casualties,  prisoners,  their 
help,  their  finance,  to  every  part  of  the  theatres  of  war. 
The  official  title  of  the  great  Geneva  organisation  is  the 
"Comite  International  de  la  Croix  Rouge."  At  the  cen- 
tral office  are  some  300  assistants,  voluntary  and  other, 
English,  French,  German,  Austrian,  Swiss,  working  un- 
der the  same  roof  and  labouring  to  do  their  best  for  the 
afflicted,  their  relatives  and  friends. 

The  extent  of  part  of  the  work  can  be  gauged  from 
the  fact  that  on  certain  days  there  are  as  many  as  15,000 
communications  passing  from  one  belligerent  country  to 
another  through  the  office  alone.  Geneva  is  probably  the 
chief  centre  of  postal  communication  between  Germany 
and  England. 

The  important  task  of  receiving  and  correcting  the 
lists  of  prisoners  is  carried  on  here  under  a  system  that 
is  as  business-like  as  the  management  of  a  London  bank. 
Some  idea  of  the  difficulties  with  which  the  Geneva 
workers  are  faced  can  be  deduced  from  the  fact  that 
there  are  already  no  fewer  than  6,000  prisoners  of  war 
of  the  name  of  Martin,  a  common  patronymic  both  in 
England  and  in  France. 

The  Comlte  International  is  not  merely  a  passive  ma- 
chine. It  goes  out  of  its  way  to  search  for  news  of  the 
killed,  wounded,  and  missing.  If,  for  example,  it  no- 
tices in  the  German  communique  that  an  airman  has  been 
brought  down,  it  communicates  with  the  German  authori- 
ties through  the  German  Red  Cross  at  Frankfurt  or  Ber- 
lin and  asks  for  the  name  and  fate  of  the  airman  and  his 
observer.     The   German   authorities   in  this  and   other 


NEUTRAL  GLIMPSES  259 

matters  relating  to  prisoners  are  prompt  and  not  unkind. 
They  supply  Geneva,  for  example,  with  a  neat  form 
giving  a  full  account  of  any  prisoner  who  has  died  in 
their  hands,  with  a  note  from  priest  or  pastor  describing 
his  last  moments.  The  lists  of  prisoners  in  their  hands 
are  forwarded  punctually  and  are  legibly  written. 

At  the  moment  of  my  visit,  the  latest  English  list  of 
German  prisoners  arrived  by  registered  post  from  the 
Prisoners  of  War  Information  Bureau,  49,  Wellington- 
street,  London.  It  is  pleasant  to  record  that  it  was  a 
model  of  care  and  accuracy  and  is  so  regarded  by  the 
Sw^iss  authorities.  Geneva  people,  indeed,  say  that  there 
is  little  to  choose  in  this  matter  between  the  promptitude 
and  activity  of  the  English  and  Germans. 

The  appeals  that  reach  the  Comite  International  from 
all  countries  are  heartrending.  Owing  to  the  violent  na- 
ture of  modern  warfare,  the  number  of  permanently 
missing  is  greater  than  in  previous  wars.  Soldiers  are 
buried  by  shell  and  mine  explosions,  others  are  perma- 
nently entombed  in  their  dug-outs,  and  at  the  Battle  of 
the  Mame,  for  example,  it  is  believed  that  many  who 
have  never  been  heard  of  were  drowned.  The  Geneva 
and  other  organisations,  including  the  extremely  efficient 
one  in  connexion  with  the  British  Red  Cross  Society,  are 
ceaseless  in  their  endeavours  to  trace  every  possible  miss- 
ing man. 

Apart  from  the  business-like  accuracy  of  the  whole 
establishment,  it  is  evident  that  the  strictest  neutrality 
is  maintained  by  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  who  conduct 
this  great  Swiss  undertaking.  All  the  various  languages 
used  by  the  belligerents  are  to  be  heard  about  the  build- 
ing, and  the  interests  of  every  country  involved  are 
doubtless  well  looked  after,  if  such  a  precaution  be 
necessary. 


260        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

The  list  just  arrived  from  England  was  explained  to 
me  by  a  young  Swiss  gentleman  who  was  so  obviously 
from  Oxford  that  I  asked  him  at  which  college  he  had 
been,  to  which  he  replied  'The  House."  (Christ  Church, 
which  is  usually  referred  to  thus  by  undergraduates.) 
None  the  less,  he  was  strictly  neutral  in  the  conduct  of 
his  department,  whatever  be  his  private  views  of  the 
war. 

Before  the  great  struggle,  Geneva  was  one  of  the 
largest  centres  for  English  residents  on  the  Continent. 
A  number  still  remain,  but  the  whole  character  of  the 
town  has  changed.  At  the  moment,  it  is  one  of  the 
most  curious  congeries  of  human  beings  in  Europe.  In 
the  course  of  a  single  day  I  encountered  Young  Turks 
and  Old  Turks,  Eg}^ptian  ''Nationalists/'  Rumanians, 
Greeks,  Serbs,  and  Gennans  and  Austrians.  Some  of  the 
latter,  not  onl}^  there  but  elsewhere  in  Switzerland,  are 
deserters  from  Gemiany  and  Austria. 

The  local  name  for  these  oddments  of  humanity  is 
mctcqncs.  A  number  of  the  temporary  inhabitants  are 
waiting  to  know  to  what  nationality  they  belong,  as, 
for  example,  refugees  from  Trieste,  who  do  not  feel 
certain  whether  they  will  remain  Austrians  or  become 
Italians. 

The  Genevois  themselves  are  almost  to  a  man  fer- 
vently pro-Ally.  Several  spoke  very  strongly  of  our 
neglect  to  combat  German  propaganda.  France  took 
the  matter  in  hand  a  long  time  ago,  and  one  of  the  ablest 
French  journalists,  Stephane  Lauzanne,  editor  of  Le 
Matin,  after  a  due  period  of  military  service,  was  sent  to 
Switzerland,  where  he  did  excellent  work.  (Since  then 
he  has  been  doing  equally  good  work  in  the  United 
States.) 

A  distinguished  French-Swiss  explained  the  situation 


NEUTRAL  GLIMPSES  261 

to  me  in  tlie   following  words,  which   I  noted   at  the 
time : — 

The  English  should  realise  that  Swiss  military 
officers  are,  in  the  proportion  of  about  three  to 
one,  pro-German,  because  they  admire  German 
military  organisation,  because  some  of  them  have 
German  kinsmen,  have  had  German  military  train- 
ing, or  have  married  Germans.  They  recognise  that 
Germany  has  perhaps  under-estimated  her  task. 
The  German  Government,  in  order  to  create  the 
impression  in  Switzerland  that  Gennany  is  doing 
all  the  fighting,  has  made  special  arrangements,  by 
a  subvention,  to  distribute  German  newspapers  and 
illustrated  sheets  specially  throughout  Switzerland. 
Look  at  this  [he  pointed  to  the  Illustrated  Leipzig 
Gazette^ ;  Switzerland  is  deluged  with  it  week  after 
week.  It  is  beautifully  printed  in  colours,  the  draw- 
ings are  by  the  best  German  artists,  the  photo- 
graphs are  printed  by  a  rotogravure.  Here,  you  see, 
are  English  prisoners,  almost  unhurt,  marching  with 
their  captors  to  the  camp.  Here,  in  another  paper, 
you  are  being  bombed  out  of  your  trenches  by  this 
or  that  gallant  German  regiment.  We  have  had  a 
little  English  propaganda  here,  but  your  people  do 
not  seem  to  study  the  methods  of  advertisers  as  the 
Germans  do.  German  propaganda  is  ceaseless; 
yours  is  feeble  and  intermittent.  The  German 
propaganda  is  in  the  hands  of  advertising  people 
who  understand  that  when  an  advertiser  ceases  to 
proclaim  the  virtue  of  his  wares  the  sale  of  them  dis- 
appears. 

There  are  many  weak  points  in  the  German  ar- 
mour in  Switzerland  and  other  neutral  countries. 


LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

and  they  could  be  pierced  by  astute  people  who  un- 
derstand the  psychology  of  each  particular  neutral 
nationality.  Germany  has  always  the  advantage  of 
propinquity  in  dealing  with  the  Swiss,  the  Dutch, 
the  Swedes,  and  the  Danes.  That  is  a  fact  that 
should  not  be  forgotten  by  your  propagandists,  and 
should  cause  them  to  make  exertions,  greater,  even, 
than  those  of  the  Germans  themselves. 

The  force  of  this  pro-Ally  Swiss  gentleman's  remarks^ 
was  borne  in  upon  me  when  two  or  three  days  later  I 
read  in  Le  Temps  a  telegram  to  the  following  effect: — 

The  organisation  for  German  newspaper  distribu- 
tion at  Zurich  has  presented  to  the  large  hotels  at 
Geneva  a  form  on  which  the  owner  or  manager 
states  that  he  is  ready  to  place  at  the  disposal  of 
the  public,  in  the  reading-room  of  his  hotel,  the 
following  newspapers  and  reviews: — Der  Tag,  of 
Berlin;  Frankfurt  Gazette ,  Cologne  Gazette j  Voss 
Gazette,  T'dgliche  Riindsclmii,  of  Berlin;  Fremden- 
blatt,  of  Hamburg ;  Leipzig  Latest  News,  Illustrated 
Leipzig  Gazette,  Die  Woche  (The  Week),  a  Berlin 
illustrated  paper;  Reclams  Universum,  Berlin  illus- 
trated journal;  Deutsche  Politik  (German  P'olicy). 

Under  the  terms  of  this  agreement,  it  is  pointed 
out  that  the  German  propagandists  will  deliver  the 
newspapers  and  reviews  free  to  the  hotel,  on  con- 
dition that  their  display  in  the  reading-room  is 
not  charged  for. 

The  Journal  de  Geneve  protests  against  this  latest 
evolution  of  German  propaganda. 


NEUTRAL  GLIMPSES  263 

III 

THE  GERMANS  IN  SPAIN 

The  Army  of  Anti-Ally  Workers 

Pamplona,  Spain 

Forty-six  years  ago  Germany  was  at  war  with  France 
over  the  question  of  the  Spanish  marriages  and  the 
Hohcnzollern  candidate,  the  initial  cause  of  the  Franco- 
Prussian  conflict  of  1870.  Since  that  time  the  Germans 
have  never  ceased  to  agitate  for  the  political  and  com- 
mercial control  of  Spain. 

During  the  last  two  years,  despite  the  war,  they  have 
managed  by  a  stroke  of  good  fortune,  which  at  first  sight 
looked  like  ill-luck,  greatly  to  increase  their  numerical 
strength  throughout  the  Peninsula. 

In  the  last  days  of  July,  19 14,  many  Germans  fled 
from  France  into  Spain.  Their  number  was  speedily 
increased  by  the  arrival  at  various  Spanish  ports  of 
travelling  Germans,  who  remained  there,  rather  than 
face  the  Anglo-French  blockade.  When  Portugal  de- 
clared war  there  was  another  incursion  of  German  refu- 
gees. To  their  number  have  since  been  added  the  Ger- 
man soldiers  and  civilians  from  Cameroon.  It  is  said 
that  altogether,  including  the  large  number  of  resident 
business  Germans,  there  are  now  something  like  80,000 
Huns  in  Spain.  The  total  is  variously  estimated  at  from 
60,000  to  100,000,  but  a  Barcelona  man  of  affairs,  who 
visits  all  parts  of  Spain  continually,  considers  that,  in- 
cluding the  20,000  residents  of  his  own  city,  the  number 
is  approximately  80,000.     That  these  80,000  Germans 


264        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

are  not  idle  is  borne  in  upon  one  within  a  very  few  hours 
of  crossing  the  Spanish  frontier. 

Let  me  first  ask  readers  who  have  not  recently  visited 
Northern  and  Western  Spain  to  remove  from  theiir 
thoughts  all  ideas  gathered  from  Borrow  or  Ford.  ''Back- 
ward Spain,"  so  far  as  the  Northern  provinces  are  con- 
cerned, is  the  land,  not  of  gipsy,  beggar,  and  brigand, 
but  of  Spanish,  British,  German  enterprise,  of  highly-de- 
veloped water-power,  countless  new  light  railways,  auto- 
mobiles, factories,  workshops  of  all  descriptions,  and  of 
hotels  with  bed-rooms  and  bath-rooms  en  suite. 

Things  are  nowhere  in  the  world  as  before  the  war. 
Thus,  it  is  an  unpleasant  surprise,  on  going  to  a  Spanish 
bank,  to  find  that  our  good  British  sovereign,  which,  we 
were  proud  to  think,  was  the  standard  coin  of  the  world, 
is  at  an  uncomplimentary  discount  in  a  land  where  one 
formerly  received  a  handsome  bonus  in  exchange.  It  is 
unpleasant,  too,  on  opening  countless  Spanish  newspapers, 
to  find  that  a  belief  in  German  victory  and  in  German 
invincibility  is,  apparently,  a  conviction  in  most  parts  of 
Spain.  It  is  disappointing  to  be  received  by  old  Spanish 
friends,  friends  who  have  visited  England,  who  know  our 
country,  with  an  air  of  doubt  as  to  our  capacity  to  make 
war.  It  is  particularly  disagreeable  to  notice  the  favour- 
able and  agreeable  manner  in  which  the  Hun  is  received 
in  Spanish  society.  And  it  is  not  flattering  to  the  Allies 
to  find  that  he  has  the  support  of  a  great  body  of  the 
aristocracy,  of  practically  the  whole  of  the  Church,  Jesuit 
and  otherwise,  with,  in  addition,  a  large  part  of  middle- 
class  Spain. 

I  would  not  for  a  minute  disregard  the  strong  pro-Ally 
views  of  many  Spaniards,  some  in  important  positions. 
We  owe  them  a  debt  of  gratitude.  Many  are  labouring 
assiduously  to  convince  their  countrymen  of  the  justice 


NEUTRAL  GLIMPSES  265 

of  our  cause,  but  they  are  face  to  face  with  the  hourly 
wireless  propaganda  from  the  Nauen  station,  Berlin,  and 
the  Austrian  wireless  from  Pola.  They  have  to  encoun- 
ter all  manner  of  cross-currents  beneath  the  sea  of  Span- 
ish opinion,  and  these  cross-currents  have  been  forced  by 
the  Germans  till  in  many  cases  they  have  become  veritable 
tides  of  pro-Germanism. 

It  would  be  preposterous  for  a  casual  visitor  to  Spain, 
such  as  is  the  present  writer,  with  but  some  half-dozen 
holiday  tours  in  that  country  as  a  previous  experience, 
to  offer  himself  as  an  authority  on  a  very  complex  sub- 
ject. Yet  he  can,  at  least,  record  that  which  he  hears 
from  former  Spanish  acquaintances,  from  English  and 
other  residents,  together  with  that  which  he  reads,  that 
which  he  sees. 

I  came  here  to  Pamplona  because  it  is  a  convenient 
German  centre  and  because  it  is  a  pleasant  place  in  a 
fair  country.  The  days  of  early  autumn  in  Northern 
Spain  are  crisp,  yet  warm,  like  the  mimosa  time  in  spring 
at  Cannes.  The  Indian  corn  is  now  ripe;  jasmine  in 
great  festoons  and  garlands,  as  Vv^e  never  see  it  in  Eng- 
land, is  everywhere,  mixing  its  fragrance  with  that  of 
the  magnolia.  The  little,  low-growing,  purple  wine- 
grapes  in  this,  the  famous  Rioja  district,  are  sweet 
enough  to  steal. 

When  one  surveys  these  rich  valleys,  in  which  every- 
thing, including  olives,  bright  red  capsicums,  vines, 
peaches,  beets,  tomatoes,  all  seem  to  luxuriate  together 
in  wild  profusion,  it  is  not  difficult  to  understand  why 
the  men  from  the  sandy  plains  of  Prussia  are  covetous. 
There  are  other  reasons  of  which  I  shall  speak.  A  glance 
at  the  map  of  Europe  should  be  sufficiently  suggestive 
of  Bismarck's  anxieties  about  the  Iberian  Peninsula. 

At  the  Cafe  Kutz  at  Pamplona,  which,  despite  our 


^66        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

blockade,  bravely  but  falsely  advertises  Spatenbrau- 
Miinchen  on  its  wide  white  awning,  may  be  found  after 
Mittagessen  many  of  the  types  of  the  German  elements 
that  are  unceasingly  working  against  us — and  against 
Spain.  One  soon  learns  from  their  loud  talk  that  the 
Germans  in  Spain  have  constituted  themselves  into  a 
well-drilled  army,  obviously  acting  on  definite  instruc- 
tions. 

Just  one  typical  scene.  The  Huns  who  were  eating  at 
one  of  the  leading  hotels  to-day,  and  who  had  to  bear  our 
English-speaking  as  best  they  could,  were  probably 
mostly  soldiers  and  civilians  back  from  Cameroon.  Their 
leader  was  a  young  Prussian  of  30,  whose  neck  and  head 
were  of  about  the  same  diameter.  He  had  little.  Ori- 
ental eyes,  stifif  wooden  movements,  a  gash  down  the 
side  of  the  face,  received  at  a  Mensur  in  student  days, 
and  hair  cropped  as  closely  as  a  poodle's. 

Pamplona  is  a  great  clerical  centre.  A  number  of 
young  priests  were  lunching,  and  heartily,  let  me  say. 
As  each  left  the  room  the  young  Boche  rose  and  bent 
himself  In  half,  in  German  fashion,  with  a  tremendous 
bow,  to  the  evident  pleasure  of  the  priests.  The  thing 
was  exactly  like  the  official  railway  courtesy  ordered  by 
telegram  from  Berlin  to  any  more  or  less  known  foreign 
traveller,  and  at  the  same  time  showed  the  minute  care 
with  which  the  German  army  in  Spain  is  working.  With 
the  Church  on  their  side,  the  battle  is  half  won.  Later 
on,  the  same  young  Boche  was  one  of  a  large  company 
of  noisy,  hat-lifting  Germans  at  the  Kutz  establishment, 
and  it  was  amusing  to  notice  that,  as  a  flock  of  the  black- 
robed  fathers  strolled  by  in  an  unmasculine  costume 
(which  is  certainly  not  suited  to  Spanish  heat  and  dust) 
the  Huns  cast  amused  and  contemptuous  glances  behind 
their  backs,  and  made  slighting  remarks  about  them. 


NEUTRAL  GLIMPSES  267 

From  a  Spanish  acquaintance,  who  is  not  a  little  con- 
cerned at  the  growing  intensity  of  German  activity  in 
Spain,  I  learned  a  good  deal  of  the  habits  and  customs 
of  the  propagandists,  for  such  every  one  of  them  is. 

Germany  long  ago  impressed  Spain  with  the  prestige 
of  her  arms  and  her  trade.  On  the  Norte  Railway  the 
finest  locomotives  bear  the  name  of  their  German  place 
of  origin,  in  legible  letters,  that  can  be  read  by  passen- 
gers on  both  of  the  station  platforms.  At  one  time  Span- 
ish locomotives  came  from  England.  In  the  home,  or 
the  hotel,  there  is  nearly  always  a  German  piano,  a  Ger- 
man bath,  and  you  switch  on  a  German  electric  lamp  to 
see  the  time  by  a  German  clock.  The  chemists'  shops  are 
full  of  German  drugs  and  preparations. 

A  vast,  new,  many-windowed,  oblong,  ugly,  industrial 
building  looms  up  before  you  at  the  corner  of  a  road, 
and  you  find  that  it  is  a  sugar  factory  erected  by  Ger- 
mans, smce  the  war.     ^ 

The  average  Spaniard,  who  is  more  of  a  cahallero  than 
a  man  of  business,  is  naturally  impressed  by  years  of 
German  commercial  surroundings.  Many  Spanish  busi- 
ness men  are  frankly  afraid  of  Germans. 

The  khaki-clad  officers  and  men  of  the  Spanish  Army 
— especially  the  younger  officers — looking  uncommonly 
like  our  Belgian  Allies  except  for  the  shape  of  their  caps, 
are,  I  was  assured  by  Spanish  officers,  convinced  that 
Germany  must  win. 

From  the  moment  of  the  outbreak  of  war  every  Ger- 
man refugee  as  he  arrived  was  set  to  work  to  learn 
Spanish.  Many  of  them  had  fled  into  Spain  so  hurriedly 
that  they  were  without  funds,  and  these  were  provided 
by  the  local  German  Consuls.  But  the  invaders  were  not 
long  idle.  The  majority  obtained  work  in  the  innumer- 
able establishments  of  their  compatriots,  some  in  Barce- 


268       LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

lona,  some  at  Seville,  some  in  the  iron  districts,  others 
in  the  countless  industries  in  Spain  into  which  the  Ger- 
man vampire  has  dug  its  claws.  A  few,  it  is  believed, 
have  availed  themselves  of  their  knowledge  of  Spanish 
to  escape,  as  Spaniards,  to  South  America,  to  Holland, 
and  to  Scandinavia.  For  the  purpose  of  such  adventur-; 
ous  journeys  they  buy  up  old  passports,  or  make  use  of 
others,  manufactured  for  the  special  purpose. 

But,  as  a  rule,  the  Germans  in  Spain  show  no  great 
anxiety  to  get  back  to  the  land  of  the  meatless  day  and 
the  bread-ticket.  They  look  prosperous  and  well-fed,  and 
they  are  unquestionably  helping  to  get  Spain  into  the 
German  clutch.  They  realise  that  if  to  a  victorious  Ger- 
many Spain  is  very  useful,  to  a  defeated  Germany  Spain 
is  almost  essential. 

In  the  likely  event  of  the  development  of  overland 
transport  by  aeroplane,  the  coasts  and  harbours  of 
friendly  Spain  would  be  invaluable  to  Germany.  The 
mineral  wealth  of  the  Peninsula  only  now  being  scien- 
tifically developed,  would  afford  her  several  sorts  of  raw 
material,  of  which  Germany  has  little  or  none.  And, 
as  an  outlet  for  German  goods,  as  the  main  point  of  de- 
parture for  the  wealthy  Republics  of  South  America,  as 
a  bulwark  against  English  control  of  Gibraltar,  Spain  is, 
from  the  German  point  of  view,  distinctly  Germany ^s 
"pidgin." 

The  well-drilled  battalions  of  German  residents  and 
refugees  in  Spain  know  exactly  how  to  confuse  public 
opinion  in  any  locality.  In  the  North  of  Spain,  where 
the  French  have  never  been  popular  since  the  Napoleonic 
invasion,  they  alarm  the  ignorant  by  threats  that  an  Al- 
lied victory  might  mean  a  revival  of  the  days  of  a  hun- 
dred years  ago.  In  the  West  they  state  that,  as  a  re- 
ward for  Portugal's  ''treachery"  in  joining  the  Allies, 


NEUTRAL  GLIMPSES  269 

she  is  to  be  given  two  of  the  richest  Spanish  provinces. 

Lately  Spain  became  anxious  on  this  point,  coupled  as 
it  was  with  the  statement  that  the  Portuguese  Army  was 
mobilised  against  Spain.  The  Portuguese  Government 
wisely  asked  Spain  to  send  a  military  mission  to  inspect 
the  situation.  There  was  not,  of  course,  a  word  of  truth 
in  the  statement,  which  was  industriously  promulgated 
by  one  of  the  most  widely  circulated  Madrid  newspapers, 
the  A. B.C.,  Avhich,  under  a  cunning  pretence  of  neutral- 
ity, is,  as  I  can  easily  prove  by  its  files,  subtly  and  con- 
tinually pro-German. 

In  the  south  ^'Gibraltar  for  the  Spaniards"  remains 
the  m.ost  successful  German  cry,  appealing  as  it  does  to 
Spanish  pride  and  sentiment.  The  Moroccan  question 
and  the  Moroccans  themselves  are  never  let  alone  by 
Germany.  The  suggestion  is  continually  put  forward, 
too,  that  Germany  stands  for  monarchy,  order,  and  re- 
ligion; whereas  England  is  the  home  of  free  speech  and 
industrial  unrest,  and  France  the  centre  of  anarchy. 

Next  to  our  own  island,  Spain  is  the  chief  mother 
country  of  the  world.  Here  and  there  the  Spaniards  ex- 
hibit maps  showing  to  what  parts  of  the  earth  Spanish 
stock  has  carried  the  Spanish  language.  With  the  lan- 
guage has  gone  a  certain  amount  of  sympathy  for  Spain. 
The  Germans  know  that,  with  Spain  as  a  point  d'appui, 
and  the  backing  of  Spanish  opinion,  and,  above  all,  with 
that  of  the  Church,  their  cause  is  likely  to  be  better  ap- 
preciated in  the  New  World  than  if  mother-Spain  were 
hostile.  From  Spain,  therefore,  proceeds  to  South  Amer- 
ica a  great  deal  of  German  propaganda  in  the  Spanish 
language. 

Although  many  war  fortunes  are  being  made  in  Spain 
♦ — for  she  is  supplying  iron  to  England,  railway  trucks 
and  war  material  of  other  descriptions  to  France — some 


^70        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

discomfort  has  been  caused  by  the  war.  One  of  the  most 
unpopular  topics  in  Spain  is  the  high  price  of  bread.  An- 
other is  the  cost  of  coal,  which  in  some  places  stands 
at  $30  a  ton.  These  circumstances  are  used  by  the  Ger- 
man agents  to  stir  up  feeling  against  England  for  her 
wickedness  in  launching  the  world  into  war. 

The  chief  methods  of  propaganda,  then,  seem  to  be  a 
daily  stream  of  wireless  communiques  from  Berlin  and 
Austria,  discrediting  the  Allies;  continuous  activity  on 
the  part  of  the  Church  and  the  Carlists;  the  influence  of 
the  German  "colony,"  with  steady  work  on  the  part  of 
the  university  professors  and  schoolmasters  on  behalf 
of  the  Central  Powers,  the  chief  channel  being,  of  course, 
the  Press.  There  are  notable  exceptions,  such  as  the 
Imparcial,  El  Liberal,  Heraldo,  and  others  engaged  in 
sustained  effort  to  put  the  truth  about  the  war  before  the 
Spanish  public.  These  efforts  have,  especially  of  late,  had 
a  considerable  amount  of  success,  and  have  aroused  Ger- 
man hostility,  as  will  no  doubt  this  and  another  article 
of  mine.  A  small,  but,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  a  growing  part 
of  Spanish  opinion  is  disgusted  with  German  cruelties, 
and  more  especially  with  the  wholesale  enslavement  of 
Belgian  and  French  women  in  the  invaded  provinces. 
There  has  been  talk  in  the  English  newspapers  of  a  re- 
monstrance by  the  Spanish  Government  in  this  matter, 
but  in  the  absence  of  much  stronger  pro-Ally  propaganda 
and  much  firmer  British  diplomacy,  it  would  be  surpris- 
ing were  anything  really  important  to  result.  ^ 

Let  me  give  a  few  instances  as  showing  the  methods 
of  presenting  news  to  the  Spanish  public  by  certain  jour- 
nals. In  all  the  neutral  countries  German  Press  agents 
represent  England  as  cowering  under  the  Zeppelin  terror. 

^  Some  sort  of  notice  seems,  very  privately,  to  have  eventually 
been  taken. 


NEUTRAL  GLIMPSES  271 

To-day,  in  one  newspaper,  I  read  of  a  great  Zeppelin  raid 
on  London,  and  of  orders  by  the  Metropolitan  Police  that 
not  a  single  ray  of  light  was  to  be  emitted  at  night,  either 
out  of  doors  or  indoors.  This  news  was  prominently 
given — but  not  a  word  was  said  in  this  journal  about  one 
of  the  raiding  Zeppelins  having  been  destroyed. 

In  one  of  our  Headquarters  communiques  the  other 
day  it  was  stated  that  we  brought  down  a  certain  number 
of  enemy  aeroplanes.  The  communique  was  so  put  as  to 
give  the  impression  that  we  had  lost  the  aeroplanes,  and 
the  heading  was,  "The  British  Communique.  Ten  Aero- 
planes Lost." 

This  sort  of  thing,  carried  on  day  after  day  and  week 
after  week  by  innumerable  journals  among  a  people  who 
have  had  German  efficiency  drilled  into  them  for  years, 
is  a  sort  of  poison  that  will  only  be  removed  by  some 
great  military  success  on  our  part.  Verdun  has  done  as 
much  as  anything  to  cure  a  certain  part  of  Spanish  public 
opinion  of  the  ''German  invincibility"  theory.  (It  is  in- 
teresting, by  the  way,  to  note  here,  in  Pamplona,  a  Ger- 
man centre,  little  books  for  sale,  with  the  head  of  the 
Kaiser  so  drawn  as  to  look  like  a  skull  on  a  background 
of  blood,  entitled  simply,  *'Verdun.")  Former  Spanish 
acquaintances  of  pro-German  views  admitted  to  me  that 
Verdun  was  puzzling  to  them. 

As  elsewhere,  the  view  is  industriously  spread  by 
Germany  that  England  is  the  sole  and  only  cause  of  the 
war,  and  that  the  unfortunate  French  are  only  too  anx- 
ious to  make  peace.  England,  the  might  of  whose  army 
is  absolutely  unknown  to  the  average  Spaniard,  is  rep- 
resented as  sacrificing  France,  as  she  is  alleged  to  have 
sacrificed  Belgium,  Serbia,  Montenegro.  If,  runs  the 
argument,  Spain  were  so  mad  as  to  join  the  Allies,  her 
fate  would  be  that  of  France  and  the  rest ;  and  if  she  were 


£72        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

even  to  exhibit  friendly  neutrality  civil  war  would  result. 
The  leading  Carlist  papers  have  recently  headed  their  ar- 
ticles ''Neutrality  or  Civil  War!" 

Another  line  taken  by  German  propagandists,  chiefly 
among  the  aristocratic  classes,  is  that  Spain  should  keep 
herself  strictly  impartial,  so  that,  if  necessary,  King  Al- 
fonso and  his  Cabinet  may  perhaps  be  invited  by  Great 
Britain  to  arbitrate  when  we  sue  for  peace  with  Ger- 
many. That  we  shall  eventually  invite  the  Spanish  Court 
to  save  our  face  seems  to  be  accepted  by  all  except  the 
inner  circle,  who  know  some  of  the  facts. 

One  of  these  facts  is  that  the  Germans  in  191 6  in- 
duced a  well-known  Spanish  nobleman  to  go  to  London 
to  fly  a  peace  kite,  and  that,  on  his  arrival,  those  to  whom 
he  was  accredited  wisely  took  not  the  least  notice  of  him. 
The  Germans  now  assert  that  the  unfortunate  Spaniard 
went  to  London  on  his  own  account. 

From  much  that  I  have  heard  in  the  course  of  my 
enquiries,  the  Spanish  Court  would  be  the  very  worst 
arbiter  between  the  Allies  and  the  Central  Powers. 
Whatever  may  be  King  Alfonso's  own  knowledge,  the 
views  of  the  average  Court  official  are  something  like 
these : — 

''English  officers  are  gallant  fellows,  excellent  polo 
players,  good  sportsmen  in  general,  but  amateurs.  The 
English  'Tommies'  are  few  in  number,  brave,  but  fool- 
hardy. The  'bloody  repulses'  so  often  mentioned  in  the 
German  communiques  are  due  to  the  fact  that  an  army 
cannot  be  raised  in  a  few  years.  France  has  called  up 
all  her  men  from  17  years  of  age  to  48.  England  can  do 
nothing  on  land  of  any  service.  Therefore  Germany  is 
bound  to  win,  and  even  if  she  does  not  win,  cannot  pos- 
sibly lose." 

I  am  informed  that  a  Spanish  military  mission  has  been 


NEUTRAL  GLIMPSES  273 

sent  to  British  military  headquarters.  It  is  to  be  trusted 
that  it  will  have  come  back  with  opinions  that  may  some- 
w^hat  change  this  Court  point  of  view,  though  I  am  doubt- 
ful of  the  lasting  effect  of  anything  short  of  a  smashing 
and  palpable  military  defeat  of  Germany — one  that  can- 
not be  disproved  by  wireless. 

Former  Spanish  acquaintances  regard  me  as  some- 
thing of  a  hero  in  venturing  across  the  German  subma- 
rine-controlled Channel  at  this  juncture.  Others  doubt 
that  I  really  propose  to  go  back  to  live  and  work  in 
Zeppelin-infested  London.  One  hears  all  sorts  of  stupid 
nonsense,  from  people  who  ought  to  know  better,  such  as 
the  statement  that  Princess  Henry  of  Battenberg,  mother 
of  the  Queen  of  Spain,  has  come  to  Spain  for  safety  from 
Zeppelins.  These  views  would  be  merely  annoying  were 
it  not  that  they  have  a  bearing  on  Spanish  opinion  dur- 
ing the  war  and  on  the  theory  of  German  invincibility. 

A  good  deal  of  travel  among  neutrals  lately  has  borne 
in  upon  me  the  fact  that  no  one  wants  to  be  on  the  losing 
side.  It  is  obviously  with  this  view  in  mind  that  Ger- 
many keeps  her  80,000  agents  in  Spain  at  work,  hiding 
Allied  successes  and  belittling  the  British  effort.  A  shrewd 
Englishman  of  business  in  Spain — and  we  have  many 
such — assured  me  that  he  believed  the  present  melan- 
choly state  of  our  good  English  pound  sterling  was  due 
not  only  to  the  balance  of  trade  against  us,  but  to  the 
doubt  as  to  our  capacity  to  stand  up  against  Germany. 
Former  Spanish  admirers  who  have  been  impressed  by 
the  German  propaganda  are  politely  silent  when  some 
idea  is  given  them  of  the  determination  of  Great  Britain 
and  her  Allies  to  crush  the  vampire. 

Pro-Ally  Spaniards  say  that  immeasurable  harm  was 
done  in  the  long  months  during  which  the  British  Army 
issued  no  daily  communiqiie  whatever.     The  impression 


^74        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

was  then  almost  indelibly  confirmed  that  we  had  no 
Army.  Yet  during  all  that  time  we  had  taken  our  part 
in  the  battles  of  the  Manie,  the  Aisne,  and  Ypres. 

There  are  quick  minds  at  the  other  end  of  the  German 
wireless  and  they  watch  our  proceedings  very  closely. 
They  flood  Spain  with  downright  lies,  minimising  state- 
ments and  contradictions  with  a  celerity  which  is  quite 
amazing.  I  have  been  so  struck  again  and  again  by  the 
quickness  with  which  neutrals  learn  from  Germany  what 
is  going  on,  that  I  recently  asked  Commendatore  Mar- 
coni if  it  were  possible  that  the  Germans  had  a  secret 
wireless  in  our  midst.  He  replied  that  it  would  be  quite 
possible  for  them  to  have  wireless  apparatus,  that  it 
would  be  very  difficult  to  detect,  and  that  he  himself 
would  be  able  to  erect  a  wireless  in  England  that  our 
authorities  would  have  great  trouble  in  discovering.  But 
it  is  certain  that  what  we  are,  in  reality,  face  to  face  with, 
is  great  alertness  and  intelligence  on  the  part  of  the 
German  Press  Bureau. 

The  Germans  in  Spain  have  wealtliy  people  among 
them  who  have  seen  to  it  that  the  various  German  com- 
munities and  individuals  are  closely  linked  up.  The 
newcomers  are  gathering  every  sort  of  information  about 
Spanish  industries  and  the  possibilities  of  development  in 
Spain.  Need  I  point  out  that,  with  a  population  of  less 
than  twenty  millions,  80,000  active  propagandists  and 
workers  constitute  a  formidable  body? 

The  number  may  be  80,000,  it  may  be  slightly  more 
or  less,  but  the  Hun  seems  to  be  everywhere.  Almost 
the  first  w^ords  I  heard  in  Spain  were  German.  Seven  out 
of  ten  of  the  numerous  provincial  journals  are,  more  or 
less,  Germanophile. 

In  a  motor  journey  of  some  1,300  kilometres  I  encoun- 
tered German  pedestrian  and  motor  parties  all  bound  on 


NEUTRAL  GLIMPSES  275 

the  same  purposeful  work.  Their  task  is  the  easier  be- 
cause the  general  Spanish  public  is  not  vastly  interested 
in  the  war.  In  Spain  it  is  not  the  vital  question  that  it 
is  in  England,  in  France,  or  even  Switzerland.  In  the 
newspapers  our  Great  Crusade  often  takes  quite  a  minor 
position,  and  in  the  majority  there  is  more  about  the  bull 
fight  or  the  latest  crime  than  about  the  greatest  event  ia 
the  world's  history. 

IV 

A  SPANISH  TOUR 

Some  People  and  Places 

While  it  is  difficult  for  any  one  who  has  seen  any^ 
thing  of  the  horrors  of  the  German  invasion  of  Belgium 
and  France  to  comprehend  the  neutral  frame  of  mind, 
it  has  to  be  remembered  in  visiting  and  contrasting  Spain, 
where  there  is  no  sign  of  conflict,  that  her  people  are 
at  peace. 

A  few  of  the  more  far-seeing  Spanish  leaders  do  not 
quite  like  that  situation.  There  is  a  good  deal  of  jealousy 
of  little  Portugal,  who  has  not  l>een  afraid  to  throw  down 
her  glove  to  the  Kaiser.  But,  on  the  whole,  Spain  in 
general,  and  industrial  Spain  in  particular,  appears  to  be 
glad  to  be  out  of  the  maelstrom. 

•  In  the  course  of  visits  extending  over  30  years  I  have 
never  known  such  prosperity  in  Spain  as  at  present. 
With  the  exception  of  a  few  old  women  who  haunt  the 
doors  of  cathedrals  and  a  single  gipsy,  w^ho,  by  the  way, 
asked  alms  in  very  fair  German — imagining,  I  regret 
to  say,  that  our  party  was  from  the  Fatherland — we  were 
not  assailed  by  a  single  beggar  anyw^here.     Good  for- 


276        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

tune  seems  to  smile  everywhere  alike,  in  town  and  coun- 
try. San  Sebastian  and  other  watering-places  are  having 
seasons  such  as  they  have  never  known  before.  In  more 
than  one  of  the  excellent  motorists'  hotels  erected  during 
the  past  few  years  wq  found  it  difficult  to  obtain  sleeping 
quarters. 

On  setting  out  on  a  visit  to  the  iron  districts,  we  made 
the  journey  by  the  wonderful  coast  road  zna  Zarauz,  Bil- 
bao, and  Santander,  certainly  the  most  majestic,  if  dan- 
gerous, cliff  road  I  have  travelled  in  a  somewhat  exten- 
sive experience.  The  Bay  of  Naples,  the  road  from 
Larne  to  Portrush,  or  the  Grande  Corniche  cannot  com- 
pare with  it.  The  only  drawbacks  are  the  dust  and  nerve- 
racking  corners,  round  which  tear  high-powered  cars, 
with  open  exhausts,  at  a  speed  that  reminds  one  of  the 
Continental  road  races  of  a  decade  back. 

There  is  a  noise  like  that  of  a  Zeppelin,  or  a  traction 
engine.  Our  modest  20  h.p.  car  is  passed  as  if  standing 
still,  and  then  dust,  that  completely  obscures  the  view  of 
sea  and  sky. 

**The  King!"  cries  our  chauffeur.  His  amiable  Maj- 
esty is  en  route.  Youth  will  be  served.  Further  on  we 
find  a  powerful  Royal  car — not,  fortunately,  Alfonso's — 
in  a  ditch,  with  the  two  front  wheels  off.  A  day  or  two 
afterwards  the  Spanish  papers  record  yet  another  and 
serious  accident  to  certain  members  of  the  Royal  en- 
tourage. 

In  numberless  ways  it  is  a  strange  sensation  to  be 
living  in  surroundings  not  unlike  those  of  the  Riviera 
years  ago  in  peace  time.  The  white  wings  of  the  racing 
yachts  are  in  the  bay,  golfing  and  lawn  tennis  parties  are 
setting  out  for  the  day's  sport,  immaculately-dressed 
young  Spaniards,  with  Bond  Street  and  Savile  Row  writ- 
ten all  over  their  clothes,  are  escorting  Sefioritas,  dressed 


NEUTRAL  GLIMPSES  27T 

from  the  Rue  de  la  Paix.  The  whole  thing,  against  the 
background  of  the  war,  is  like  a  dream  of  something  long 
past. 

The  road  continues,  one  long  film  of  beautiful  pic- 
tures, though  it  passes  through  the  iron  districts  leading 
to  Bilbao  and  beyond.  There  is  nothing  in  the  nature 
of  a  black  country,  or  manufacturing  Lancashire,  or 
chemical  Cheshire.  Now  and  then  one  is  on  the  Riviera, 
in  a  few  moments  in  the  sad  mountains  of  Donegal.  The 
hot  southern  sun  blazes  down  on  little  inland  coves  of 
the  Atlantic,  in  which  are  ensconced  tiny  watering-places ; 
but  there  are  no  wounded,  as  in  France  or  at  home. 
Villas,  embowered  in  walnut  and  chestnut  trees,  with  gar- 
dens gay  with  red  and  white  roses,  and  the  universal 
jasmine  and  pink  oleander,  have  carefully  closed  persi- 
ennes to  keep  out  the  mid-day  heat. 

As  one  approaches  Bilbao  the  hills  are  red  with  the 
iron-laden  soil;  from  beneath  them  is  brought  down  by 
vertical  railway  and  wireways  the  metal  for  the  guns  and 
the  shells.  The  rivers  and  their  estuaries  pour,  brilliant 
red,  into  the  great  Atlantic.  One  of  our  party  remarked 
that,  if  any  one  painted  this  contrast  of  sea  and  river, 
he  would  be  regarded  as  an  unusually  eccentric  Futurist. 
It  was  pleasantly  cool  sauntering  along,  but  when  we 
stopped  for  luncheon  at  Bilbao,  the  centre  of  one  of  the 
richest  mineral  territories  in  the  world,  we  found  that 
the  day  was  as  hot  as  midsummer  at  home. 

In  the  restaurant  our  next  neighbour  is  a  stout  German 
lady,  whose  performance  on  the  tooth-pick  would  have 
done  credit  to  a  restaurant  in  the  Friedrichstrasse  in 
'Berlin.  We  English  speakers  receive  the  usual  glares 
from  the  Germans,  who  are  sharing  the  excellent  meal 
provided. 

Afterwards,  a  Spaniard  to  whom  we  have  an  introduc- 


^78        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

lion,  complains  of  the  Allies'  commercial  black-list.  We 
point  out  that  war  is  war,  and  that  the  saving  of  Allied 
lives  and  the  destruction  of  enemy  trade  is  more  im- 
portant to  us  than  commercial  relations  with  neutrals. 
His  reply  is  that  the  rule  should  be  applied  all  round, 
and  especially  to  certain  iron  mines  which  are  conjointly 
owned  by  Germans  and  English,  and  he  mentions  Krupp 
and  an  English  firm  by  name.  He  admits  that  the  dis- 
trict is  largely  Germanophile,  and  he  believes  that  con- 
.siderable  iron  is  going  into  Germany  by  Norway.  This 
statement  is  afterwards  denied,  although  not  absolutely, 
by  an  English  authority  whom  w^e  consulted. 

After  sauntering  through  an  incredibly  beautiful  coun- 
try, with  delicious  glimpses  of  the  Atlantic,  passing  rivers 
in  which  the  trout  were  rising  temptingly,  and  one  in 
which  there  was  excellent  salmon  fishing,  we  slept  at 
Oviedo,  at  a  palatial  hotel  as  unlike  the  Spain  of  20  years 
ago  as  could  be  imagined.  At  the  local  garage  there  was 
an  assemblage  of  motor-cars  of  the  first  rank,  and  not  one 
of  them,  we  are  glad  to  say,  was  German.  Rolls-Royce, 
Renault,  Delaunay-Belleville,  Daimler,  and  the  Hispano- 
Suiza  predominated. 

There  is  an  old  Oviedo  and  a  new  which  is  being  built 
as  rapidly  and  noisily  as  new  New  York,  and  as  ugly  as 
new  Buenos  Aires. 

Wakened  in  the  morning  by  the  sound  of  blasting  in 
the  neighbouring  hills,  a  sound  that  is  never  out  of  one's 
ears  in  industrialised  Spain,  we  crawled  up  the  zigzags  of 
the  great  Cordilleras  Cantabricas,  and  suddenly  de- 
scended from  the  dense,  wet  clouds  into  what  was  exactly 
like  Egypt.  Red  and  ochre  hills,  a  great  blazing,  yellow 
plain,  dried-up  looking  towns  on  the  hillside,  pigeon  cotes 
exactly  like  those  in  Egyptian  villages,  and  water  raised 
by  shadoofs.     The  wheat  has  been  gathered,  and  in  some 


NEUTRAL  GLIMPSES  ^79 

places  is  being  trodden  out,  as  in  Biblical  times.  In  all 
places  it  is  winnowed  in  the  wind,  in  ancient  fashion. 

Out  on  the  plain  the  only  birds  are  hawks  and  quail- 
like partridges,  with  also  our  own  red-legs.  We  stopped 
the  car  outside  an  adobe  hut  of  Moorish  desis^n,  thick- 
walled  and  very  cool  within.  The  bright-eyed,  dark, 
dry-skinned  peasant,  who  comes  out  to  tell  us  the  way, 
invites  us  to  taste  some  of  the  wine  grapes  which,  to- 
gether with  some  quinces,  he  is  growing  in  his  little  oasis. 
He  is  extremely  intelligent,  declines  any  payment,  as  is 
usual  in  rural  Spain,  but  accepts  a  cigar  and  a  few  picture 
papers — for  he  cannot  read — and  asks  us  about  the  war. 
It  has  had  the  effect  of  raising  the  price  of  bread.  The 
land  as  far  as  we  can  see,  he  tells  us,  belongs  to  a  great 
nobleman,  and  is  worked  on  a  feudal  system.  Owing  to 
the  emigration  to  South  America,  labour  is  scarce,  and 
he  and  his  work  doubly  hard  in  consequence.  It  would 
be  good  land,  he  says,  if  the  rain  were  attracted  by  the 
planting  of  more  trees.  The  war,  he  fears,  will  be  long. 
His  good  manners,  which  previous  experience  has  taught 
me  to  find  everywhere  and  among  all  classes  in  Spain, 
forbid  him  expressing  an  opinion  as  to  the  result. 

Later  on  that  day  a  similar  enquiry  as  to  our  route 
from  an  old  labourer  brought  the  question :  Were  we 
French?  "No,"  we  replied,  "English."  He  put  out  his 
hand  and  shook  ours  warmly,  saying  that  he  had  been  in 
the  service  of  an  English  family  in  Buenos  Aires.  And 
the  war?  How  long  w^ill  it  last?  Long,  he  feared. 
"The  Allemans  are  strong." 

There  is  no  country  in  which  I  have  been  where  one 
is  asked  so  frequently:  How  long  will  the  war  last? 
The  war  seems  to  be  some  great  distant  monster  which, 
despite  the  people's  interest  in  their  own  everyday  life, 
is  ever,  if  distantly,  present. 


280        LORD  NORTHCLLFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

The  dust  between  Albert  and  Arras,  in  the  earlier  days 
of  the  battle  of  the  Somme,  when  thousands  of  troops, 
transport  wagons,  and  mules  were  stirring  it,  seemed  to 
be,  to  use  an  Americanism,  the  ''extension  of  the  limit/' 
Egyptian  dust  is  perpetual  and  insinuating,  and  Indian 
dust  is  like  khaki  flour.  But  Spanish  dust,  in  August, 
when  a  Norther  is  blowing,  amounts  to  something  like 
a  perpetual  fog.  A  closed  car  is  of  no  avail;  goggles 
worn  within  it  are  useless.  A  passing  mule  can  raise 
a  cloud  of  it,  and  it  was  consoling  to  think,  whatever 
may  be  the  difficulties  in  front  of  our  soldiers  in  that  part 
of  the  map  in  which  Sir  Douglas  Haig  and  General  Foch 
are  operating,  a  war  in  this  part  of  the  world  would  be 
worse,  a  veritable  agony  of  thirst. 

Yet,  little  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago,  the  great 
Duke's  soldiers  drove  Soult's  forces  across  waterless 
plains  similar  to  these,  at  a  time  when  there  were  none 
of  the  comforts  of  mechanical  transport. 

The  contrast  between  the  peace  and  gaiety  of  small 
Spanish  towns  at  night,  and  our  thoughts  of  France  at 
this  time  is  trying.  Yet  no  one  who  has  been  in  a  neu- 
tral country  would  wish  to  live  in  its  atmosphere  rather 
than  in  that  of  England  or  of  her  Allies.  These  Spanish 
towns  are  alive  with  children,  who,  having  like  all  Span- 
iards, enjoyed  their  siesta,  appear  to  go  to  bed  about  the 
time  people  are  pouring  out  of  the  theatres  in  London. 

Almost  every  small  centre  has  an  excellent  band,  whose 
only  fault  is  the  monotony  of  its  mournful,  modem  Span- 
ish music,  which  seems  to  be  almost  always  written  in 
the  minor.  It  is  that  of  a  people  resigned  to  their  lost 
position  as  conquistador es. 

Often,  it  is  pleasant  to  note,  we  came  across  places  in 
which  there  were  not  only  no  Germans,  but  no  knowledge 
of  Germans.     In  some  districts  where  there  were  Ger- 


NEUTRAL  GLIMPSES  g81 

mans  the  people  were  perfectly  frank  in  their  disHke  of 
them.  The  Spaniards  are  extremely  good  mimics,  and 
can  imitate  German  ways  in  a  most  amusing  manner. 

Enquiries  and  researches  in  a  good  many  quarters, 
every  one  of  which  revealed  the  same  steady  German 
purpose,  brought  us  eventually  back  to  San  Sebastian, 
which  many  of  its  admirers  claim,  perhaps  with  reason, 
to  be  the  most  beautiful  seaside  resort  in  the  world.  San 
Sebastian  to-day  is  humming  with  life  and  visitors.  On 
the  way  into  the  town  we  meet  a  small  English  jockey, 
heavily  swathed,  toiling  at  least  four  miles  an  hour  in 
the  afternoon  sun,  to  reduce  his  weight  for  the  racing, 
which  takes  place  almost  daily.  The  local  bull  ring  is 
packed,  and  an  attempt  to  get  a  seat  for  a  pelota  match 
was  in  vain. 

Although  the  Spaniards  are  still  the  proud  people  they 
have  always  been,  there  is  that  curious  mixture  of  de- 
mocracy that  makes  San  Sebastian  a  combination  of 
Monte  Carlo  and  Margate.  The  King  and  his  yacht 
are  here.  Most  of  the  Embassies  have  moved  here  from 
Madrid.  All  Spain  that  counts  fills  the  beautiful  villas 
on  the  hills,  and  the  densely  packed  hotels.  In  the  morn- 
ing the  perfect  sands  swarm  with  children. 

Along  the  promenade  that  leads  to  Miramar,  outside 
which  lounge  his  Majesty's  guards  in  picturesque  red  Bis- 
cayan  caps,  there  is  an  endless  procession  of  tramcars 
and  motors,  mingled  with  slowly  moving,  yoked  oxen, 
and  the  perpetual  donkey  of  the  peasant,  as  often  as 
not  ridden  pillion.  The  casino  is,  of  course,  the  main 
attraction  of  this  very  rapidly  growing  town.  In  the 
gaming  rooms,  as  at  Monte  Carlo,  are  the  same  shabby 
old  ladies,  with  solemn  faces,  deliberately  placing  their 
five  pesetas,  with  the  other  and  younger  ladies,  who 
throw  their  money  away  as  rapidly  as  they  get  it.    Here 


282        LORD  NORTHCLIFFE'S  WAR  BOOK 

and  there  is  an  Englishman,  who  looks  thoroughly 
ashamed  at  being  caught  gambling  in  war-time,  with  the 
customary  wizened  old  men,  studiously  working  out  their 
systems.  There  are  Germans  here,  as  everywhere,  but 
they  chiefly  have  their  headquarters  at  their  own  cafe  in 
the  town.  A  German  in  Spain  is  not,  as  a  rule,  on  pleas- 
ure bent. 

A  pleasing  and  quite  harmless  feature  of  the  casino 
at  San  Sebastian  is  the  organised  gathering  of  hundreds 
of  children  on  the  great  terrace  outside,  and  in  the  rooms 
not  devoted  to  gambling.  The  absence  of  black  in  the 
women's  and  children's  dresses  is  a  striking  contrast  to 
one  who  has  just  come  from  France,  anH,  were  it  not  for 
an  occasional  mantilla,  there  would  be  nothing  but  the 
vivid  greens,  yellows,  and  blues  that  sound  so  bizarre,  but 
are  not  out  of  place  in  Spain,  where  the  national  colours 
of  red  and  yellow  fit  the  landscape  as  properly  as  do  the 
green,  white,  and  red  of  sunlit  Italy.  The  Spaniards 
make  much  of  their  children.  Sometimes  one  feels  that 
the  small  people  are  a  little  out  of  place  at  the  hotel  din- 
ner hour,  which  is  usually  at  8.30  or  9  o'clock.  As  a  rule 
the  children  are  beautifully  dressed,  well  cared  for,  most 
attractive,  and  altogether  sans  gene.  When  we  asked  a 
Spanish  friend  why  that  vivacious  and  quick-witted  crea- 
ture, the  chico  (the  Spanish  boy)  develops  so  quickly 
into  something  like  apathetic  languor,  he  replied  it  was 
''the  education."  Certainly  the  contrast  between  the  early 
manhood  of  Spain  and  the  alertness  of  the  boys  is  very 
remarkable. 

San  Sebastian  is  itself  solemnly  and  particularly  in- 
teresting to  English  people,  who  have  a  pilgrimage  of 
their  own  near  by. 

And  so,  leaving  the  Casino,  with  its  myriads  of  little 
ones,  who  were  being  entertained  by  the  sending  up  of 


NEUTRAL  GLIMPSES  283 

grotesque  fire  balloons,  in  the  shape  of  all  manner  of 
animals  and  black  men,  and  escaping  from  the  noise  of 
the  two  rival  bands,  we  said  good-bye  to  neutral  Spain 
by  visiting  the  scene  of  the  famous  and  gloriously  vic- 
torious storming  of  the  citadel  in  1813,  when  our  soldiers 
showed  exactly  the  same  qualities  they  are  displaying  on 
the  Somme  to-day.  They  crossed  the  river  under  a  ter- 
rible fire,  which  filled  it  with  English  blood.  They  per- 
formed what  seemed  the  impossible,  and  what  was  almost 
as  remarkable  as  Wolfe's  attack  on  Quebec. 

At  the  summit  of  the  citadel  are  a  few  English  graves, 
which  seem  somewhat  more  neglected  than  they  should 
be.  From  this  lofty  scene  of  the  great  struggle  they  look 
straight  out  towards  the  Bay  of  Biscay  to  England.  The 
most  legible  inscription  is  as  follows : — 

Sacred  to  the  memory  of  Lieutenant-Colonel  Sir 
Richard  Fletcher,  Bart.;  Captain  C.  Rhodes,  Captain 
G.  Collyer,  Lieutenant  H.  Machell,  Corps  of  Royal 
Engineers,  who  fell  at  the  siege  of  San  Sebastian, 
August  31,  1813. 


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COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  UBRARIES 


0043182461 


